The Snow Killings

by Marney Rich Keenan

  In 1977, as soon as Greene told Flint detectives that Busch had killed Mark Stebbins, they notified the Oakland County authorities. In a “special report,” Tom Waldron, Flint’s detective in charge of the juvenile division, wrote: “Due to the fact that the suspect in this matter, Christopher Busch, had numerous contacts and had lived in the Birmingham-Detroit area, the Oakland County Task Force that was involved in the kidnap and homicides of 5 [sic] juveniles, become involved in this matter.”7

  Busch was arrested on the Bowman charges January 28, 1977, while working at The Scotsman restaurant—purchased for him by his parents—in Alma. No fewer than six detectives, including three officers from Oakland County—MSP Sgt. Roger Rivard of the Pontiac post, Det. Thomas Cattell from Ferndale, and Det. Lourn Doan from Southfield—stormed the restaurant. Busch was in his upstairs office when he was taken into custody, his staff and restaurant patrons agape at the sight of the boss walking out in handcuffs. In the back of a squad car, Busch was told he would be booked in Flint, about an hour’s drive from Alma. Busch asked if he could be driven home to pick up some clothes before heading to the police station. When officers asked if they could search his home, Busch said he had nothing to hide.

  In one bedroom, they found two shotguns—one 16-gauge, the other 20-gauge. (Jill Robinson was shot with a 12-gauge.) In another bedroom, they found one pound of marijuana and a suitcase with “ropes inside, some black pieces of plastic, and a ski lift pass from Sceneboat [sic] Springs.” In the basement, they found another suitcase full of child pornography magazines and films, including “eight to ten 8-millimeter home-made movies of children having sex in a tent in a wooded area.”8 One officer who viewed the films described them to Williams: “You could see the arm of an adult male in the movie, directing the kids on what to do sexually, because they didn’t know what to do.”9

  The suitcases and guns were confiscated and turned over to the Flint PD, with a receipt number assigned. Records show that at some point in February or March of 1977, the FBI in Flint picked up the suitcase containing the films to try to determine the identity of victims involved. (Williams could not locate these suitcases. He believes the FBI analyzed the films for the four Oakland County victims and must not have found anything. Otherwise, they would have charged Busch immediately.)

  During Busch’s interrogation in Flint, he told investigators he engaged in sex with boys because he had been raped in boarding school. He also admitted he had discussed with Greene their shared fantasies about kidnapping a boy, tying him up and sexually abusing him. Busch said if they were to act on their fantasy and hold a child captive, either he or Greene would work at night, the other during the day, so one of them would always be with the child.

  Busch told police he was not proud of his sexual problem but denied having any involvement in Mark Stebbins case. At the the time of Stebbins’ disappearance—he was abducted February 15, 1976, his body found February 19—Busch said he had just flown back from England with his parents, arriving at Detroit Metro Airport February 14. (Williams later discovered that at least one newspaper incorrectly reported the date of Stebbins’ disappearance as February 13. In later reports, the date was corrected to February 15.) Busch said he couldn’t be sure, but he believed he stayed a couple days at his parents’ home in Birmingham before going back up north.

  Greene told polygrapher Cabot he also arrived in Flint from California on February 14, suggesting the two collaborated on their stories. (In fact, California court records show Greene returned to Detroit on February 11. Later, Williams’ interviews with Greene’s brothers, who picked him up at the airport, also confirmed this date.)

  When asked where he would procure his victims, Busch said he was involved in the Big Brother program and then offered specific details about pick-up locations, listing—in chronological order—the sites where the three OCCK victims had been abducted. Tim King had not yet gone missing.

  Southfield Det. Lourn Doan reported:

  Approximately 11/2 years ago, Busch said he picked up a young boy at 9 Mile and Woodward in Ferndale [Mark Stebbins’ abduction site] and that he dropped him off in Royal Oak near 13 Mile Road and Woodward Ave. [Jill Robinson’s abduction site]. He said he also had a little brother in the Big Brother program that he often took to Hartfield’s bowling alley [where Kristine Mihelich’s mother worked] and also to the 7-11 store [where Kristine was abducted].”10

  Det. Williams could hardly believe what he was reading. Busch was laying out an alibi in case he had been spotted at the exact sites, in the exact order, where Mark, Jill and Kristine were snatched. The lens of hindsight notwithstanding, Williams was livid. How was it that the number-one suspect had clearly implicated himself, at the height of widespread public frenzy over a serial child killer, and the evidence was just now coming to light three decades later?

  At the time of Busch and Greene’s arrest in Flint, Dick Thompson, second in command at the Oakland County Prosecutor’s Office, was so intrigued—particularly with Busch being a Birmingham native—he travelled 60 miles through a snowstorm from his office in Pontiac to Flint to witness Busch’s polygraph examinations. All had high hopes.

  Busch took the polygraph on January 28, 1977, during which he was asked about his involvement in Mark Stebbins’ death. The relevant test questions were:

  Last February, do you know for sure who killed that Stebbins boy? Answer: no.

  Did you ever have that Stebbins boy in a vehicle with you? Answer: no.

  Did you dump the body of that Stebbins boy where he was found? Answer: no.

  Are you withholding any information about who killed that Stebbins boy? Answer: no.

  Examiner Cabot wrote: “Physiological responses given on the examination by Christopher Busch were not indicative of deception. Based on the analysis of the examination it is the opinion of the polygraphist that Mr. Busch is telling the truth to the above questions and that he was not involved in the killing of the victim.”11

  Based on their polygraph results, Busch and Greene were both cleared by the Task Force for the murder of Mark Stebbins. If any future tips came in connecting them to the Oakland County Child Killings, their tip sheets—numbered 369 and 370 respectively—would permanently read: “Subject Cleared by: Polygraph.” Detectives reviewing their files would see that both men had been investigated; but because they passed polygraphs concerning the case, a second look would appear unnecessary. Bottom line: Busch and Greene were cleared as suspects in the case. Full stop.

  It is worth noting that the Michigan State Police was the first law enforcement agency in the country to establish a state police polygraph unit, in 1935.12 And perhaps the reason polygraph results were deemed so definitive—the last word on guilt or innocence—within the institution was because it revered its own eminent standing. It had an image to uphold.

  Initially, bond for both Busch and Greene was set at $75,000. Curiously, Busch’s bond was later reduced to $1,000. Decades later, the media tried to determine who crossed out the $75,000 figure, typewritten on Busch’s court records, and handwrote $1,000. But as with so many other loose ends in this case, too many people had died, too much evidence had decayed or been mishandled or outright destroyed. And for those witnesses still living, time can be a convenient enabler: “I don’t remember” is made more credible when decades have passed. Succinctly put: Greene was sentenced to life in prison on the same criminal sexual conduct charge, brought by the same victim, for which Busch walked.

  On January 31, 1977, H. Lee Busch posted his son’s bail in cash and Christopher Busch walked free. Weeks later, Tim King would walk up to the pharmacy to buy a candy bar and never be seen again.

  An index card from the Genesee County jail records that Greene was in custody there from February 3, 1977. Court records show he remained there until sentencing on June 17. Yet a notation in a police report indicates he was out on bond until that date. These conflicting accounts make it uncerta
in whether Greene could be the suspect in the composite sketch who was seen talking to Tim King the day he was abducted (Michigan State Police).

  As to whether Greg Greene was actually in custody when Tim King went missing on March 19, 1977, there are conflicting accounts. Det. Lourn Doan stated in police reports in 1978: “Greene was sent to Jackson Prison on 6–17–77. Out on bond till then.”13 Greene’s court file, however, shows that his request to have his bond lowered was denied and that he remained in jail until his sentencing.

  Those who believe Greene did bond out point to the composite drawing of the suspect seen talking to King at his abduction site, which many in law enforcement said matches Greene perfectly.

  Williams could not pin down the answer. A tattered, yellow index card from the Genesee County jail, retrieved from court records, indicates that Greene arrived at the jail on February 2 and was sentenced on June 17. In a phone call, a clerk told Williams it did not appear that Greene was ever freed in the interim. “I asked [her] if it was possible that Greene was out of the jail at any time or bonded out and it just didn’t get put on the card, to which she stated it was possible,” Williams wrote in his report. “She said the cards were only as accurate as the people typing the entries on them.”

  A police composite drawing of the suspect (left) seen talking to Tim King just before he disappeared bore a strong resemblance to Gregory Greene (Michigan State Police).

  In contrast, Busch rarely, if ever spent a night in jail. Two days after he was released from custody in Flint, the Oakland Press ran a front-page story headlined: “Task Force Finds: No Slaying Link in Flint Case.”14 The story reported that two unidentified men arrested in Flint were polygraphed about their possible involvement in the child murders in Oakland County, but both were cleared.

  Later, two news reports—one by the Associated Press on February 20, 1977, and another by the Detroit News dated February 22, 1977—reported on an investigation of the sexual exploitation of juvenile boys launched by Genesee County Prosecutor Robert F. Leonard in Flint. Leonard said he was investigating a large number of complaints from Flint involving prepubescent boys allegedly forced to commit sex acts with men, with each other and before cameras. Busch and Greene were named as defendants in the investigation. Leonard said the men may have passed boys from one to another and the scheme may have had “nationwide” ties.

  His office was “investigating the possibility the defendants may have been linked to Grosse Pointe millionaire Francis D. Shelden, missing since allegations that his youth camp on a Lake Michigan island near Traverse City was a homosexual haven became public last fall.”15

  When asked about Leonard’s investigation, Oakland County Prosecutor L. Brooks Patterson “emphasized that the cases are seemingly unrelated to the murder of Mark Stebbins, a twelve-year-old Ferndale boy, sexually molested and then killed early last year.”16

  In any case, it does appear that some in Genesee County law enforcement made a concerted effort to rein Busch in. In a June 29, 1977, letter from Genesee County Assistant Prosecuting Attorney Judith Fullerton to Montmorency Prosecuting Attorney David F. Tibbetts and Midland County Prosecutor Richard L. Lee, Jr., wrote: “plea negotiations have, at least temporarily broken down, inasmuch as, understandably (Genesee County Circuit Court) Judge (Earl) Borradaile would not commit himself to allow Mr. Busch to remain free on bond pending sentence, nor would he commit himself to sentencing Busch to probation.”17

  And yet, seven months later, Judge Borradaile inexplicably reversed that position. On April 18, 1978, Borradaile accepted Busch’s guilty plea for the crime of assault with intent to commit criminal sexual conduct involving penetration, sentencing Busch to five years of probation. Thirty-five years later, Barry King wrote to Judith Fullerton, now a Circuit Court Judge in Flint. King asked Fullerton if she had any recollection of Christopher Brian Busch, or any explanation for Borradaile’s reversal. King never received an answer.

  For an all too brief time, Busch was on Oakland County’s radar as the charges from Kenneth Bowman made their way through the courts in Oakland County. For the charge of rape with a minor (after forcing himself on the 13-year-old near a field in Mt. Holly in May of 1976) Busch was potentially looking at decades behind bars.

  Jane Burgess took her client to Wasser for a polygraph on the Bowman case sometime after she was hired March 15, 1977—the day before Tim King went missing and seven weeks before Busch was sentenced on April 29. Assuming that Wasser told Burgess his suspicions about Busch being involved in the OCCK case at the time of the polygraph, Burgess knew her client’s culpability within weeks of being hired and at the height of panic and mania in the community.

  At least initially, it appeared Oakland County was intent on punishing Busch. Thompson had made it clear he would not accept any plea deals in the Bowman-Busch case. At least two separate court documents in the Bowman case show Thompson’s handwritten orders: “No Deals, R. Thompson.”18 But Thompson caved or received some incentive to back off because a plea deal is exactly what Busch got. In July of 1977, he was sentenced to two years’ probation by Judge Robert Templin.

  Two court documents from the prosecution of Christopher Busch show Oakland County Chief Assistant Prosecutor Richard Thompson’s handwritten orders: “No Deals.” Yet Busch received probation in all four felony rape cases against him (Michigan State Police).

  In 2011 and 2012, Barry King wrote several letters to Richard Thompson asking for any recollections he might have about the case, especially about the discrepancy in sentencing. Thompson, now president of The Thomas More Law Center, a non-profit public interest law in Ann Arbor, Michigan, never answered the letters from the father of the murdered child. (Nor did Thompson respond to several letters, emails and phone calls during the writing of this book.)

  Thompson’s boss in the seventies, Oakland County Executive and former Oakland County Prosecutor L. Brooks Patterson, stated in a 2012 interview that, while Busch should not have gotten a free pass, he was not responsible for the debacle. “To the extent that Busch was given a bad deal, yes, it was, under the circumstances. It was a bad plea…. It was way too generous. But, first of all, the file does not have my fingerprints, it has my office. My office was in charge of it. But Brooks Patterson didn’t handle it. I really don’t remember the case. I never saw it. I never saw that name until (2008).”19

  While Patterson did not shy away from the media when faced with questions about the OCCK case, he steadfastly claimed a faulty memory when it came to all things related to Christopher Busch. Patterson passed away from pancreatic cancer in August 2019 at the age of 80.

  In stark contrast, at least two officers whose memories did not fail them told Williams they thought Busch was the Oakland County Child Killer all along. Retired Southfield detective Lourn Doan, summoned to Flint when Greene and Busch were arrested, said he was sure Busch would fail the polygraph and they would be issuing charges. After meeting with Williams in February 2008, Doan said “he could not believe (Greene and Busch) had passed their polygraphs and remembered shaking his head over it.”20 Doan kept investigating Busch even after passing the polygraph. He said Busch never should have been given a free pass.

  Tom Waldron, Flint’s detective in charge of the juvenile division at the time, knew Busch was a walking time bomb.

  On March 9, 1977, a week before Tim King was abducted, Waldron wrote a letter to the Alma Police Department to warn them of their resident repeat offender. (Busch was living in a house in Alma while working at his restaurant at the time.) “At present, Christopher Busch is free on bond of all charges. It appears he is willing to enter into intra-county plea bargaining if the 1st degree charge is dropped. He has made full statements and confessions regarding these pending charges but also has hired one of the best legal councils [sic] to defend him in both Genesee and Oakland County.”21

  In June of 2009, Williams drove to Flint to interview Waldron, then in his late seventie
s. In a phone call beforehand, Waldron said he had never forgotten Busch and Greene. When Williams showed him all the evidence he had uncovered on Busch and Greene, Waldron hung his head. “Cory,” he said, regretfully. “I feel bad to this day. This should have been solved thirty-two years ago.”

  Waldron said he was “flattened” when they passed the polygraph. He said: “Everyone thought these were the guys involved in the child killings.”22

  Waldron recalled that Greene told him he had hidden a tinfoil-wrapped package of pornographic Polaroids of kids, under the snow near a downspout in the backyard of his home in Flint. Waldron went to Greene’s house, dug through the ice and snow and located the package. But, he said, the pictures were never given to the OCCK Task Force for comparison because, by the time he got his hands on them, Busch and Greene had already been cleared by the polygraph.

  Instead, they were likely held as evidence at Flint PD. When Williams went to look for the Polaroids, he was told they had been lost in an evidence storage room flood.23

  Near the end of their interview, Waldron remembered that in the early eighties, Greene had contacted him and said he wanted to tell him something. Waldron wanted to follow up and go see him in prison. But when he went to his chief for permission, he was told: “That has nothing to do with us. You’re not going.” Waldron said he always regretted not going on his own dime.

  About a year after their first visit, Williams went to see Waldron a second time. He wanted to brief him about the progress made in the case. He thought it would lift his spirits. But the house was shuttered; Waldron had passed away.