Monster

by Aileen Wuornos

  The thumbprint on pawn ticket number 3325 proved to be the key. Jenny Ahearn of the Florida Department of Law Enforcement’s Automated Fingerprint Identification System found nothing on her initial computer search, but not one to be put off, she visited Volusia County with colleagues where they began a hand search of fingerprint records.

  Within an hour, the team struck gold. The print showed up on a weapons charge and outstanding warrant against a Lori K. Grody. Her fingerprints matched a bloody palm print found in Peter Siems’s Sunbird. All of this information was sent to the National Crime Information Center, and responses came from Michigan, Colorado and Florida confirming that Lori K. Grody, Susan Blahovec and Cammie Marsh Greene were all aliases for one person: Aileen Carol Wuornos.

  By now, Tyria was keeping her head down and was back living with her parents in Ohio. Lee was living rough when, on Wednesday, 19 December, she met a paunchy ex-marine named Dixie Mills at Wet Willie’s Bar on US 1. Both were drunk, and they shared a common reason to get plastered: Lee was grieving over her loss of Tyria, while Dixie was shattered because his wife had left him after just a few months of marriage.

  Mills would later recall that Lee was a very intelligent woman. ‘We talked about a lot of things – from art to parapsychology to ancient history. I couldn’t believe I’d met another human being that had such awesome comprehension and knowledge.’ He found Lee to be a ‘wild, savage party animal’ with an insatiable desire for sex and alcohol. ‘There’s only two people I’ve ever met who have met the devil and shaken his hand,’ boasted Mills. ‘The one is me and the other is her.’

  The two hellraisers stayed together until Christmas Eve, when Mills left Lee to return to his wife. On parting, he gave her $50.

  Almost a year later, Mills recounted an entirely different story to the Globe newspaper.

  ‘It all started so innocently. But it turned into a nightmare. If I’d known what I was getting myself into, I would have run for my life. But I didn’t have a clue. On that first day, I was trying to drown my sorrows in beer at Wet Willie’s in Daytona Beach, and I saw this woman doing exactly the same thing down at the other end of the bar … that night, her troubles made her all the more appealing. We were both pretty down and out, and we desperately needed each other. Suddenly, she turned, looked deep into my eyes and said, “Dick, you and I are one – aren’t we.”’

  Several days later, he said that Lee made him an offer. ‘Dick, I’ll be your wife if you pay me $500 a month.’

  Mills went on to claim that he was ‘stunned’, and no way would he ever do such a thing. And, according to him, she revealed many of her secret fantasies, one of which entailed her being hooded while she was tied to a tree in a forest. Then ‘a guy would come up to her and rape her, and then shoot her in the head’. She told him that the killing would make her climax.

  Apparently, and this is Mills’s side of the story, he took her to two family parties – one at Christmas and the other at his daughter’s house in Ohio. ‘On both occasions, she got blind drunk and insulted everybody. After that I offered her $500 if she stayed out of my life.’

  Lee dismissed all of this to me, saying, ‘Yeah, I remember the guy. I stayed with him and he paid me for sex. He gave me $50 plus a few beers. I never went to no parties with him because he left me to get with his wife over Christmas. He was crying like a kid over his wife. Never met his daughter either. What man is going to introduce a hooker like me to his daughter when he is trying to get back with his wife? It is all bull.’

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  THE ARREST

  Posing as leather-clad bikers, two under-cover detectives, Mike Joyner and Dick Martin, finally spotted Lee Wuornos at 9.19pm on Tuesday, 8 January 1991 and kept her under surveillance. A police report describes the events that led to her arrest.

  A surveillance team was dispatched to the Daytona Beach area in search of Aileen Wuornos and Tyria Moore. On 01/08/91 a team of Officers inside the ‘Port Orange Pub’ on Ridgewood Avenue, Daytona, spotted Wuornos at that location. Undercover Officer Mick Joyner observed her with a tan suitcase which she carried from one location to another. Conversations with her and the observations of the undercover team were that she has mood swings from friendly and congenial to aggressive and abusive and is known to consume both Busch and Budweiser can beer and smoke Marlborough cigarettes. She told Mike Joyner that everything she had was in the suitcase and showed a key to him which she said was her life. (This was the key to her lock-up at the storage warehouse.) She then walked to the Last Resort Bar (where she had been sleeping rough on a yellow vinyl car seat outside of the premises). She spent the night in the bar with this suitcase. She hadn’t any place to stay and told Joyner that she had broken up with her girlfriend, Ty, and missed her. The surveillance continued until the evening hours of 01/09/91 at the Last Resort Bar. Intelligence revealed a large party was to occur at the bar that evening. Because of this, a decision was made that surveillance would be almost impossible.

  So, the serial killer was drinking at the Port Orange Pub on Ridgewood Avenue in Harbor Oaks, about half a mile north of her favourite bar, The Last Resort, one of the many biker bars that line US 1. But the official police report does not indicate that their carefully planned operation to catch Aileen Wuornos almost went disastrously wrong.

  While she was in the Port Orange Pub, two uniformed Port Orange police officers – to the dismay of the undercover cops – walked into the bar and took Lee outside. Joyner and Martin frantically telephoned their command post at the Pirate’s Cove Motel where authorities from six jurisdictions had gathered to bring the investigation to a head. They concluded that this development was not a leak but simply a case of alert police officers doing their jobs. Bob Kelly of the Volusia County Sheriff’s Office called the Port Orange police station and told them not to arrest Lee under any circumstances. The word was relayed to the officers, who suddenly had a more pressing engagement to attend to, and Lee was allowed to return to the bar.

  The action now shifted back to the two undercover detectives who struck up a conversation with Lee and bought her a few beers. She left the bar at around 10pm carrying a leather suitcase and declining the offer of a lift. Once again, the cautious arrest was almost ruined when two Florida Department of Law Enforcement (FDLE) officers pulled up behind Lee, following her with their lights off as she walked down Ridgewood Avenue. Police at the command post radioed the FDLE officers to back off, allowing Lee to proceed to The Last Resort.

  Joyner and Martin met her at The Last Resort, drinking and chatting until midnight when she left. But she did not go far: Lee Wuornos spent her last night of freedom sleeping on an old yellow vinyl car seat under the tin-roof overhang of the bar.

  Surveillance was planned to continue throughout the following day, but, when the police learned that a large number of bikers were expected for a party at the bar that evening, they decided further surveillance would be impossible. By simply donning a crash helmet, Lee could quite easily disappear among the hundreds of motorcyclists milling around at the party, and vanish for good. The decision was made to go ahead with the arrest.

  Joyner and Martin asked her if she would like to use their motel room to clean up before the party. At first she was reluctant, but then she changed her mind and left the bar with them.

  Outside, on the steps leading to the bar, Larry Horzepa of the Marion County Sheriff’s Office approached Lee and told her that she was being arrested on an outstanding warrant for Lori Grody, one of her many aliases. This related to the illegal possession of a firearm and no mention was made of the murders. The arrest was kept low key and no announcement was made to the media that a suspected serial killer had been arrested. Their caution was well advised, for as yet the police had no murder weapon – and no Tyria Moore.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  AILEEN WUORNOS’S CONFESSION – IN HER OWN WORDS

  Tyria Moore was located on Thursday, 10 January by Major Dan Henry of Marion County Sheriff’s Department.
She had fled her parents’ home and was living with her sister in Scranton, Pennsylvania. Once he had cleared any jurisdictional matters with the local police, Major Henry did something quite remarkable for a senior officer investigating a serial murder case. He booked into a local motel with one of his prime suspects, Tyria, and then he summoned Jerry Thompson of Citrus County and Bruce Munster of Marion County who flew to Scranton to interview her. In her possession were, among other things, a briefcase and clock radio identified as the property of Charles Humphreys, and other items the property of Curtis ‘Corky’ Reid.

  In that motel room Tyria was informed of her rights but not charged with any offence or granted immunity. There was no plea-bargain deal either. Munster says he made sure she knew what perjury was, swore her in and sat back as she gave her statement. Within a short while she agreed to testify against Lee at trial, and she was involved with Munster, Henry and Binegar to sell her story for a television movie. Our three cops, having access to the entire investigation papers, would act as consultants.

  Initially, Tyria told the police that she had ‘sort of known’ about the Mallory murder since Lee had arrived home with Richard Mallory’s Cadillac. Lee had openly confessed that she had killed a man that day, but Tyria had advised Lee not to say anything else. ‘I told her I don’t want to hear about it,’ she told the detectives. ‘And then, any time she would come home after that and say certain things, telling me about where she got something, I’d say I don’t want to hear it.’ Tyria had her suspicions, she admitted, but wanted to know as little as possible about Lee’s business. The more she knew, she reasoned, the more compelled she would feel to report Lee to the authorities. She did not want to do that. ‘I was just scared,’ she said, bursting into tears. ‘She always said she’d never hurt me, but then you can’t believe her, so I don’t know what she would have done.’

  The next day, Tyria accompanied Munster and Thompson on their return to Florida to assist in the investigation. A confession from Lee would make the case virtually airtight, and Munster and Thompson explained their plan to Tyria on the flight. Putting her under 24-hour surveillance, they would register her into a Daytona motel and have her make contact with Lee in jail, explaining that she had received money from her mother and had returned to collect the rest of her things. Their conversations would be taped. She was to tell Lee that the authorities had been questioning her family and that she thought the Florida murders would be mistakenly pinned on her. Munster and Thompson hoped that, out of loyalty to Tyria, Lee would confess. Lee was aware, though, that the phone she was using was being monitored, and made efforts to speak of the crimes in code words, and to construct alibis.

  The calls continued for three days. Tyria became even more insistent that the police were after her, and it became clear that Lee knew what was expected of her. She even voiced suspicion that Tyria was not alone, that someone was taping their conversations. But, as time passed, she became less careful about what she said. She would not let Tyria go down with her. ‘Just go ahead and let them know what you need to know… what they want to know or anything,’ she said, ‘and I will cover for you, because you are innocent. I’m not going to let you go to jail. Listen, if I have to confess, I will.’

  Over the three days, there were 11 conversations, some of which follow in abridged form:

  Operator: We have a call to Room 160 from Lee.

  Moore: Uh, yes, go ahead.

  Wuornos: Hey, Ty?

  Moore: Yeah.

  Wuornos: What are you doing?

  Moore: Nothing. What the hell are you doing?

  Wuornos: Nothing. I’m sitting here in jail.

  Moore: Yeah, that’s what I heard.

  Wuornos: How… what are you doing down here?

  Moore: I came down to see what the hell is happening.

  Wuornos: Everything’s copacetic. I’m in here for a… a… vi… uh… con… carrying a concealed weapon back in ’86… and a traffic ticket.

  Moore: Really?

  Wuornos: Uh huh.

  Moore: Because there’s been officials up at my parents’ house asking some questions.

  Wuornos: Uh oh.

  Moore: And I’m getting sacred.

  Wuornos: Hmmm. Well, you know, I don’t think there should be anything to worry about.

  Moore: Well, I’m pretty damn worried.

  Wuornos: I’m not going to let you get in trouble.

  Moore: That’s good.

  Wuornos: But I tell you what. I would die for you.

  Moore: Would you?

  Wuornos: Yes, I would. That’s the truth. I’ll gladly die for you. And I’ll just wait and see you on the other side. But you didn’t do anything. Are you really by yourself?

  Moore: Yes, I am.

  Wuornos: Aw, I’m so proud you work in a factory… What do you make?

  Moore: Buckets.

  Wuornos: Is it… is it boring?

  Moore: Time goes by pretty fast. Four dollars fifty-five.

  Wuornos: Oh, that’s cool. Good. I’m so happy for you. When I get this cleared out, I can’t wait to get out of here and get me another job and everything.

  Moore: I know.

  Wuornos: It is really mistaken identity. I’m telling you it is. I know it is. And I know it’s one of those girls or somebody at work must have said, Hey, those look like… that looks like Lee and Ty and everything else, you know. God, Ty, I miss you so much… we couldn’t pay the rent no more and everything. We had to go… that you had… it would… it was best for you to go back up and get… because I knew, I told you if you go up you’d find a job in a heartbeat… and I was thinking about going getting up there but I said, Shit, it’s snowing and stuff and there’s no sense in me going up there in the snow and everything when I didn’t really have any real good, you know, help or anything like that.

  Moore: They’re coming after me. I know they are.

  Wuornos: No, they’re not. How do you know that?

  Moore: They’ve got to. Why are they asking so many questions then?

  Wuornos: Honey, listen… do what you got to do, OK?

  Moore: I’m going to have to because I’m not going to jail for something that you did. This isn’t fair. My family is a nervous wreck up there. My mom has been calling me all the time. She doesn’t know what the hell is going on.

  Wuornos: I… listen, you didn’t do anything and I’m… I will definitely let them know that, OK?

  Moore: You evidently don’t love me any more. You don’t trust me or anything. I mean, you’re going to let me get in trouble for something I didn’t do.

  Wuornos: Tyria, I said, I’m not. Listen. Quit crying and listen.

  Moore: I can’t help it. I’m scared shitless.

  Wuornos: I love you. I really do. I love you a lot.

  Moore: I don’t know whether I should keep on living or if I should…

  Wuornos: I’m not going to let you go to jail. Listen, if I have to confess, I will.

  Moore: Lee, why in hell did you do this?

  Wuornos: I don’t know. Listen, did you come down here to talk to some detectives?

  Moore: No. I came down here by myself. Just why in the hell did you do it?

  Wuornos: Ty, listen to me. I don’t know what to say, but all I can say is self-defence… Don’t worry. They’ll find out it was a solo person, and I’ll just tell them that, OK?

  Moore: OK.

  Wuornos: And you’ll be scot-free. You didn’t do anything. All you did was work, eat and sleep. You never were around.

  Moore: But, Lee, I knew for a year about the first one, at least. I mean, that’s a hell of a long time.

  Wuornos: I don’t know. I think that you didn’t know. I think I pretty much left you out of that.

  Moore: No, you didn’t. You came right out and told me about that one, and then I saw it on the news.

  Wuornos: Ty, what do you want to do? Go to prison? Tell them everything. Although… it… I told you everything just before you left. You were thinking ab
out turning me in.

  Moore: When you did it the first time, I should have said something and…

  Wuornos: Well, you were confused and scared, Ty.

  Moore: I know I was.

  Wuornos: You’re not the one and I’m not going to let you go down on something you didn’t do. I love you too much to do that. I love you more than… I love you right next to God… You know what? I’m going to tell you something.

  Moore: What?

  Wuornos: When I die, my spirit’s going to follow you and I’m going to keep you out of trouble and shit and, if you get in an accident, I’ll save your life and everything else. I’ll be watching you. I probably won’t live long, but I don’t care. Hey, by the way, I’m going to go down in history.

  Moore: What a way to go down in history.

  Wuornos: No, I’m just saying… if I ever write a book, I’m going to have… give you the money. I don’t know. I just… let me tell you why I did it, all right?

  Moore: Mmm.

  Wuornos: Because I’m so… fucking in love with you, that I was so worried about us not having an apartment and shit, I was scared that we were going to lose our place, believing that we wouldn’t be together. I know it sounds crazy, but it’s the truth… I just hope you find somebody that loves you as much as I do. I don’t want you to live alone all the rest of your life. You’re a good person.

  Moore: After you, I may live by myself for the rest of my life.

  Wuornos: Ty, I don’t want them messing with you. You go first and then I’ll tell them. OK? I’d rather have you with your parents. Alrighty? I just wish… I never went… met Toni. Because Toni turned me into a lesbian… then I fucked up because I… see, when I have somebody I love them all the way and I love them with all my heart and all my soul and all my mind. And I’ll do anything. I go nuts.