The Killer Book of Cold Cases

by Tom Philbin

  Copyright © 2012 by Tom Philbin

  Cover and internal design © 2012 by Sourcebooks, Inc.

  Cover design by Dawn Adams

  Cover images © spxChrom/istockphoto.com, livingimages/istockphoto.com, redhumv/istockphoto.com

  Internal images © Bloomington Police Force, p. 118; Chris Humphrey, p. 51; El

  Segundo Police Department, p. 3, 4, 11; Federal Bureau of Investigation, p. 91, 97, 105, 187, 194; John Robinson Task Force, p. 58, 60; New York Police Department, p. 26; Public Domain, p. 19, 27, 37, 66, 68, 76, 113, 125, 136, 146, 156, 161, 201, 202; United States Army Medical Research Institute of Infectious Diseases, p. 88

  Sourcebooks and the colophon are registered trademarks of Sourcebooks, Inc.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks, Inc.

  This publication is designed to provide accurate and authoritative information in regard to the subject matter covered. It is sold with the understanding that the publisher is not engaged in rendering legal, accounting, or other professional service. If legal advice or other expert assistance is required, the services of a competent professional person should be sought.—From a Declaration of Principles Jointly Adopted by a Committee of the American Bar Association and a Committee of Publishers and Associations

  All brand names and product names used in this book are trademarks, registered trademarks, or trade names of their respective holders. Sourcebooks, Inc., is not associated with any product or vendor in this book.

  Published by Sourcebooks, Inc.

  P.O. Box 4410, Naperville, Illinois 60567-4410

  (630) 961-3900

  Fax: (630) 961-2168

  www.sourcebooks.com

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Philbin, Tom

  The killer book of cold cases : incredible stories, facts, and trivia from the most baffling true crime cases of all time / Tom Philbin.

  p. cm.

  1. Cold cases (Criminal investigation)—Case studies. 2. Crime—Case studies.

  I. Title.

  HV6515.P483 2012

  364.10973—dc23

  2011040740

  Printed and bound in Canada.

  WC 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Contents

  Introduction

  Chapter 1:

  Ice Cold

  Chapter 2:

  Judge Crater, Where Are You?

  Chapter 3:

  The Mad Bomber

  Chapter 4:

  Pyromaniac

  Chapter 5:

  Slavemaster

  Chapter 6:

  In Broad Daylight

  Chapter 7:

  Death in the Mail

  Chapter 8:

  The Legendary D.B. Cooper

  Chapter 9:

  Shocker

  Chapter 10:

  Whatever Happened to Jimmy Hoffa?

  Chapter 11:

  The Enemy Within

  Chapter 12:

  The First Use of DNA

  Chapter 13:

  The Cold Case That Chills My Heart

  Chapter 14:

  Permanent Relief

  Chapter 15:

  More Cold Cases: A Capsule Guide

  Chapter 16:

  How Criminal Investigations Go Wrong

  Glossary

  About the Author

  Introduction

  Most crimes are simple to solve. It is clear who the perp is and why he or she committed the crime. Cops call those cases grounders, but that’s not the kind of story you will find in this book. The Killer Book of Cold Cases rounds up some of the most baffling cases of all time. Many have never been solved.

  One of the cases you’ll read about is the disappearance of a prominent New York judge, Joseph Crater, in 1930. Crater had dinner in New York City with a lawyer friend. After dinner, Crater bid his friend good-bye on a New York City street and was never seen again. People were so gripped by the case that for years, Crater’s name became synonymous for someone who disappears. If someone didn’t show up at a particular event, someone else was sure to say, “He did a Crater.” The case remains unsolved, but in this book I provide a reasonable explanation of what might have happened.

  Most of the stories in this book are typical cold cases that have gone unsolved for a long time. One is a case that I call “Ice Cold,” in which two cops were gunned down one night in a little town in California. The case went cold—ice cold—for more than fifty years and then, astonishingly, was solved.

  Then there’s the case of the Mad Bomber, who drove New Yorkers half crazy in the fifties by planting bombs all over the city.

  Or the serial rapist who prowled Bloomington, Illinois, for four years. Not only was the case itself baffling, but so was the identity of the perp.

  You’ll also read how the murders of two young girls in little English villages stymied investigators for four years until the father of one of the suspects suggested that they use that new thing called DNA testing to try to find the killer.

  A variety of crimes are covered, from murder to kidnapping to rape, and as in the other Killer tomes, this book offers a wide variety of trivia related to the crimes and cold cases in general. You’ll find Q & A’s, Notable Quotables, “Who Am I?” quizzes, and other trivia sections throughout each chapter.

  In addition, a special section, “How Criminal Investigations Go Wrong,” details how all kinds of cases remain unsolved and sometimes grow cold because investigators—from the first officers at the crime scene to the guys in the lab—screwed up.

  Thanks very much for being fans of the Killer books. I hope you enjoy this one as much as the others.

  Tom Philbin

  It all started one sweltering night, July 21, 1957, when two teenage couples, returning from a night out in a 1949 Ford, decided to stop at a lovers’ lane in an oil field in Hawthorne, California. “Oil field” doesn’t sound romantic, but in the darkness, the lovers could feast their eyes on the Pacific Ocean, and on the far coastline, they could see glittering lights. The lane had been used by many couples, so the teenagers had no reason to feel fear that night.

  Where Did the Term “Cold Case” Originate?

  In his book Cold Case Homicides, a text for professional cold-case investigators, Richard Walton says, “The practical application of the phrase and of the concept of ‘cold-case’ homicide had been coined by the news media of the Metro Dade region of Florida.”

  It started with the unsolved murder of a twelve-year-old girl in that area in the early 1980s. The murder drew so much media attention that the authorities assigned a team of a sergeant and two detectives to the case, and they succeeded in solving it. The team continued to work on unsolved cases, calling themselves the extremely dry “Pending Case Squad,” but a Miami reporter dubbed them “the Cold Case Squad.” Walton says the term “cold case” had been used before, such as in Western book or movie when a trail goes “cold.”

  And although the term wasn’t used in law enforcement until the 1980s, police had similar squads working cases before that. For example, the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department has had the “Unsolved Unit” of its Homicide Bureau investigating cold cases since the 1970s.

  But there was plenty to fear. At one point, the teens saw a hulking, shadowy figure approach the car on the driver’s side, and just like that, a gun was shoved in the window.

  The sixteen-year-old driver said later, “I thought it was a prank of some sort. But it wasn’t, and then I
thought he was going to kill us. But he said he wouldn’t.”

  The stranger ordered the terrified kids to strip to their underwear, give him their watches and cash, and get in the backseat of the car. They did. He broke out some surgical and duct tape, and taped their mouths shut and their eyes sightless. Then he took one of the fifteen-year-old girls to the front seat of the car and raped her.

  After that, he ordered all four terrified and crying kids out of the car and marched them toward the nearby woods. As he did so, he said, “I think I’m going to kill you.” Once they reached the woods, he told the teens to lie down.

  They waited to be shot, but the next thing they knew, they heard him getting into the Ford, closing the door, and speeding away. The kids wandered around, looking for help.

  The man drove about five miles to the junction of Sepulveda Boulevard and Rosecrans Avenue in El Segundo. The light was red. He stopped, and then perhaps eager to get as far as he could away from the scene of the rape and robbery, he went through the red light.

  But someone else was around. Sitting on a side road in a black-and-white police car were two young patrolmen, Richard Phillips, twenty-eight years old, and rookie Milton Curtis, twenty-five years old. They had watched the car as it came to a stop at the red light, and then they saw the driver run the light.

  Immediately, they pursued the car and pulled it over, making one of the most dangerous acts a policeman can do—a traffic stop. The reason traffic stops are so dangerous is that the patrolman never knows who he will encounter. The driver could be a murderer, an escaped convict, or, in this case, a man who had just committed a number of felonies including rape, assault, armed robbery, vehicular theft, and kidnapping. Someone, in other words, who could be very dangerous.

  The man was ordered to get out of the car, and he did. One of the cops, Phillips, shined his flashlight into the car while the other wrote out the ticket. Playing his flashlight beam across the backseat, Phillips saw a yellow dress, a slip, and a sport shirt strewn over the seat.

  Richard Phillips

  As the young officers went about their business, another cop car passed by and slowed down to make sure everything was all right. Curtis looked up from writing the ticket and waved the ticket book at the passing officers, a signal that everything was under control.

  Once the passing cops were out of earshot, the quiet, dark night was suddenly shattered by gunshots. The driver of the Ford shot Phillips three times in the back as he walked back to the squad car and then fired three more shots that hit Curtis, who by then was sitting behind the wheel of the cop car. Then the man raced to his own car, and as he did, the injured and dying Phillips, a police marksman, managed to fire several shots at the perpetrator and shatter the Ford’s rear window.

  Meanwhile, the teens were wandering around the oil field still looking for help, which they found in the form of a night watchman. Police were notified, and the kids blurted out their story. Once the events—their assault and robbery and the shooting of the patrolmen—were connected, an army of cops descended on the scene of the shootings. The crime investigation subsequently spread out, like ripples from a rock thrown into a quiet lake. It became the single biggest manhunt in the history of California.

  Milton Curtis

  A pall settled over El Segundo, and permanent heartache settled into the homes of Richard Phillips and Milton Curtis. Years later, their young children would still remember the commotion at the door that night and how their mothers had wailed with grief. One of the slain patrolmen’s kids commented that his mom always said that Daddy had gone on a long trip, and then she said he had gone on the longest trip of all, to Heaven.

  Three Partial Prints

  The teens from the oil field were able to help an artist make a composite drawing. They described their attacker as a big man, six feet and 200 pounds, who wore his hair in the Elvis Presley-style wave of the time, but neither the description nor the drawing produced any viable leads.

  Police didn’t have the investigative tools then that they have today, but the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department did have fingerprinting and a technician named Howard Speaks who did a very thorough job of trying to find prints.

  Since the night had been hot and the perp might have been sweating, Speaks thought his best shot for a print was the steering wheel. His painstaking efforts paid off when he discovered and lifted a partial print off the wheel as well as two others—one from the door and another from a chrome strip inside the car. The prints were put into the California fingerprint database but failed to turn up any suspects.

  Despite the massive efforts of cops on duty and volunteers from all over California and other states, no clues were found and the case gradually went cold.

  What’s a Cold Case?

  Different cops have different definitions for what characterizes a cold case. Some cops mark a certain year as the cutoff, saying that any unsolved homicide that occurred prior to that date—for example, 1990—is classified as a cold case. Others may dub a case cold if a long time has elapsed since a person disappeared and the person is assumed to be a homicide victim.

  And while most people think of cold cases as being only unsolved murders, that is really not true. Kidnapping, rape, and missing-person cases that have gone unsolved for a long time can also be accurately characterized as cold cases.

  The case of Judge Joseph Force Crater, who vanished on the night of August 6, 1930, is a classic cold case. His wife said he received a phone call and then left the house, first commenting that he was “going to straighten those fellows out.” He was never seen again.

  Though many different definitions are used for a cold case, the bottom line is that a fairly long time has passed since the start of the investigation, and the original investigators have given up and moved on to other cases. Of course, there is no time limit on what constitutes a cold case. Decades can go by. Indeed, some cold cases have been solved after thousands of years.

  A 5,300–Year–Old Cold Case

  Certainly up there in contention as the oldest cold case of all time is that of the case of the Iceman. Two German hitchhikers discovered the “corpse”—the mummified, very well preserved remains of a male body—in 1991 in a glacier in the Ötztal Alps, which border Italy and Austria. The man was estimated to have died 5,300 years earlier and was about forty-six years old at the time.

  After examining the body, scientists decided that the Iceman had probably died of hypothermia or perhaps drowned. He seemed to be armed with a dagger and a bow and arrows, because they were found strewn around his body. The only damage observed to his body was a broken-off arrowhead in his left shoulder.

  Years passed before one of the hikers commented that when he first saw the Iceman, he had had a knife clutched in his right hand. Once they had this information, investigators started to consider other scenarios under which the Iceman could have died or been killed.

  Further investigation revealed that the body had defensive wounds: a slash on the right hand, a cut on the forearm, and bruising on the torso. They also found blood on the dagger.

  Then investigators took DNA samples from a variety of surfaces: the man’s cloak, the point of the arrow found in his body, the shaft of the arrow, and the blade of the dagger. All of those surfaces had DNA on them that did not belong to the Iceman. With that evidence, investigators postulated that the man was likely shot with an arrow from behind—from which he died of blood loss—while fighting with at least one other person.

  Ultimately, then, the murder was a very, very old cold-case homicide.

  Cops, of course, don’t forget their own, and a number of detectives were permanently assigned to the El Segundo case. Quite a few cops spent vacation time trying to track down the killer, but still with no luck.

  As time went by, the case grew colder with no leads forthcoming. A couple of months after the killings, Doug Tuley’s wife was working in her Manhattan Beach backyard, perhaps a mile from the kill site, when she found something signific
ant: a watch. Although the Ford from the crime spree had been abandoned not far way, she didn’t realize the watch’s importance to the murder case. Sometime after that, Tuley himself found part of a .22-caliber revolver. He did not attach any special significance to the gun, either, although he put it on a shelf instead of throwing it out.

  A few years later, in 1960, Tuley’s son, Bob, discovered something else in the backyard—the gun’s rusty cylinder. It was then that the father made the connection. He knew that his house was only about a mile from the crime scene, so he called the El Segundo cops. Tuley figured that since the car had been found abandoned nearby, the killer probably had broken up the gun and tossed it in the backyard.

  Murder Weapon

  After running ballistics tests on the gun, cops determined that it had fired the bullets that hit the two cops. Detectives checked the serial number on the gun, and then two of them traveled 1,600 miles to a Sears Roebuck store in Shreveport, Louisiana. Records showed that the gun had been purchased there three years earlier for around thirty dollars by someone who signed the name “G.D. Wilson” in wide-spaced handwriting.

  Surprisingly, the young clerk remembered the man, a big guy with a pompadour who spoke in a Southern drawl and seemed anxious to leave the store quickly. But that’s as far as the cops could go, and the case went cold again. For each of the next forty-two years, it got colder until it was ice. But, of course, it had not been forgotten, particularly by cops and the families of the slain officers. It was a bleeding, open wound in their minds.

  While the case went nowhere for all of those years, forensics had advanced, particularly DNA, which could be extracted from hair, blood, and semen. In Los Angeles, two people had been appointed to try to clear as many cold cases as possible using this new science. One person was Lisa Kahn, head of the District Attorney’s Forensic Science Division, and the other was David Lambkin of the Los Angeles Cold Case Division, which used DNA and computerized fingerprint and ballistic records to try to identify perpetrators.