by John Douglas
While Rogers was still out looking for the car, he got a call to respond to a fight at the corners of Center, College, and Bethuel streets in the residential area of the base. About ten minutes after midnight, he saw a car matching Davenport’s description. It was headed south.
Rogers stopped the car, which was driven by Sedley Alley, a twenty-nine-year-old white male, six foot four, and weighing 220 pounds. He worked as a laborer for an air conditioning company and was living on base as the dependent of his wife, Lynne, who was enlisted in the Navy. Alley agreed to accompany Rogers back to the security office. Lynne Alley was then contacted and brought in for questioning, too. But Lynne looked a lot like the description of the possible abduction victim and it appeared that what they were really dealing with was a domestic disturbance, so the security officers let them both go.
The two joggers, Shotwell and Howard, were in the building at the time giving their own statements. As soon as the Alleys drove away and they heard the loud muffler, they said that this was the same car they had seen and heard.
At around 5:00 A.M., security got a call from Corporal Kimberly Young relaying the information from Patti Coon: that Suzanne Collins had gone out jogging the night before and evidently had not returned. Young provided a description of Suzanne and brought them photographs of her. That was when the investigation was geared up again, quickly resulting in the discovery of her body in Edmund Orgill Park in Millington.
A little after 7:00 A.M., Richard Rogers ordered two of his patrolmen, John Griggs and Gregory Franklin, to apprehend Sedley Alley and bring him in. He then called Navy Captain Barry Spofford, commanding officer of the base, and Marine Colonel Robert Clapp, Suzanne’s commanding officer, and told them what was happening. Dorothy Cummings, the troop handler for Suzanne’s section, was brought in to view the body and make a positive identification.
Then, since the abduction had taken place on a federal reservation, they contacted the FBI Resident Agency in Memphis, which sent Special Agents Jack Sampson and Anna Northcutt to the scene.
At the crime scene, police and sheriff’s deputies saw that Suzanne’s head was covered with blood. There was a large bruise on each shoulder blade and scratches that ran from her shoulders down to her waist. Until it was removed during autopsy, there was no way to tell how far the sharp, thick tree limb had been forced up between her legs, only that about eight or so inches was protruding. When they turned her over on her back, they could see that her left eye was bruised and swollen shut and there were contusions and bite marks on her left breast. The resulting medical examiner’s report was twenty-one pages long.
Less than half a mile away, police found a screwdriver matching the description of the one Sedley Alley used to start his car, since it no longer started normally with a key. When the Naval Investigative Service secured and examined Alley’s car, they found bloodstains on several areas, both inside and out.
At the security station, Alley initially denied all involvement and asked to see an attorney. On his own, though, he then changed his mind and said he wanted to tell what happened. That was when he told the story of going out drinking and driving, going up to talk to the pretty blond Marine, then accidentally ramming her with his car, carrying her into the car to take her to the hospital, having her wake up and resist him in the car, driving off base to Edmund Orgill Park, where he panicked and hit her to keep her quiet, not realizing he was holding the screwdriver in his hand. He believed that that was what killed her, and it was a complete accident. After that, he panicked even more, at which point he got the idea to stage it to look like a sexual assault, removing her clothes and breaking off the tree limb to insert into her dead body.
What would come out before too long, however, was that with all of the numerous wounds on Suzanne’s body, the medical examiner could find none that corresponded to either a screwdriver puncture wound to the head or being struck by an automobile. Then there was also the testimony of three young people out in the park that night who never saw Suzanne or Sedley Alley but who heard what they described as a “death scream” at about the time Suzanne would have died.
Lynne Alley was also questioned. She had been out at a Tupperware party with girlfriends most of the evening. Sedley wasn’t home when she came back and she didn’t see him again until she was brought in for questioning during the night. In the morning, when she noticed the grass stains inside the car, she assumed they’d been caused by their two dogs, who frequently rode in the car. She also disclosed that her husband had been married previously, in Ashland, Kentucky, and that his former wife had accidentally drowned in a bathtub in their house there about five years before.
Subsequent investigation revealed that this “accident” was a questionable death that occurred on February 28, 1980, three days after Debra Alley filed for divorce. The grounds for divorce were sexual perversion. The nude body of the twenty-year-old woman was found in the bathtub with numerous bruises and strangulation marks around her neck. Alley said she had been out drinking with other men that night, came home drunk, took a bath and drowned. She had been dead for several hours before the police or ambulance were called. The coroner ruled that she had choked on her own vomit and had a french fry stuck in her throat. Alley had a history of violent outbursts against both wives. His four-year-old child by Debra had witnessed him beating her on several occasions.
There were additional details which tied Alley to the general vicinity of the Suzanne Collins murder. Air conditioning maintenance equipment had been stolen from an officer’s residence on Friday. When stopped for questioning, Alley had the stolen items in his car.
Sedley Alley was charged with the premeditated first-degree murder of Lance Corporal Suzanne Marie Collins of the United States Marine Corps. Before the day was out, NIS and FBI representatives had consulted with Assistant U.S. Attorney Lawrence Laurenzi, who assured them that if, for any reason, the state charge of murder would not support the death penalty, he was prepared to seek it in connection with the federal crime of kidnapping. That didn’t turn out to be an issue, however. As soon as he was apprised of the facts and shown the file, Assistant District Attorney for Shelby County Henry “Hank” Williams had decided he was going for the ultimate punishment. He refused even to entertain inquiries about a possible plea bargain.
At Marine Aviation Training Support Squadron 902 graduation at Naval Air Station—Memphis that afternoon, there was an empty place. The base flag had been lowered to halfmast and the long-awaited ceremony was not the joyous occasion everyone had anticipated.
Jeff Freeman was at school at the University of North Carolina at Wilmington when Steve called with the news that Suzanne had been killed. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. In a tragic coincidence, the brother of his roommate’s best friend had just been killed on a motorcycle. Jeff called him the next day to see what he could do, then came back to Washington to be with Steve and prepare for the funeral.
In the midst of their unendurable grief and quest to find out exactly what had happened to their daughter, Jack and Trudy Collins now had to deal with the practical considerations of Suzanne’s funeral and burial, even though they were told investigators wouldn’t be able to release her body to them for several more days.
Since Jack was a deeply religious Catholic, they considered a church-related cemetery. They were also offered several Marine and Navy burial grounds. And because Suzanne had died while on active duty, she was entitled to be buried at Arlington National Cemetery. It was Stephen who ended up making the final decision, insisting to his parents that Suzanne go to Arlington, the final resting place of the nation’s most-honored dead.
“I wanted Arlington because I felt Suzanne deserved the best,” he explained, “because she was the best.”
Meanwhile, Susan Hand had to drive back to Illinois with her mother and little sister.
“Driving back through Indiana, I cried the whole way,” she recalls. “My mother tried to comfort me, but nothing helped. Along the way I got a t
icket for going eighty-two. I had no idea what I was doing. I just kept seeing Suzanne in my mind.”
Greg Gonzowski was just as devastated. “He really loved her,” says Susan. As soon as she got home to Illinois, she called Greg and they began making plans to get to the funeral, for which they’d both have to take leave. Susan wanted to be designated as the Marine to escort Suzanne’s remains back to Washington, but the staff sergeant who Susan felt always had it in for both of them designated herself instead. To this day, Susan feels an additional sense of emptiness and loss from not being able personally to accompany Suzanne on her final journey.
On Wednesday, July 17, a memorial service was held for Suzanne at the Memphis Naval Air Station. Colonel Robert Clapp, the commanding officer of Marine Aviation Training Support Group 90, concluded his remarks by saying, “She was an eager and aspiring young lady with demonstrated ability, an observable sense of pride, and a sure knowledge and ready acceptance of the responsibilities she bore as a Marine in the service of her country…. She was an achiever, goal-oriented, a winner. She didn’t sit around and wait for things to happen—she made them happen. She was very close to realizing yet another success as she was about to graduate from avionics school.
“I think all of us feel it is a great tragedy that Suzanne’s talents and ambitions could not be fully realized, for she certainly was a credit to the Corps she was so proudly serving. Perhaps it will help us just a little bit today if we remember that she was a part of us—and that we are still here to carry on, that one is not truly gone until no one remembers—and we will not forget. So her spirit will remain alive in her Marine Corps and will continue—through us—to serve that eagle, globe, and anchor, a service which in its own unique way gives those of us who understand it more satisfaction than most of us can adequately express. She will be a Marine forever, and as someone once wrote:
“She will not grow old as we are left to grow old;
Age shall not weary her, nor the years condemn.
But at the going down of the sun, and in
The morning, we will remember her.”
The band played the Marine’s Hymn. Then, when the lone bugler played Taps, there was scarcely a hardened Marine in the chapel who could keep his eyes dry.
Because of the disfigurement Sedley Alley’s beating had caused, it was decided that the casket would remain closed for the wake and funeral. Still, when it arrived back in the Washington area, Jack and Trudy and Stephen knew they had to see her one last time.
“We had to know, as best we could,” says Jack, “everything that happened to her.”
But they were hardly prepared for the shock when the casket lid was opened for them. She was in her dress uniform, wearing white gloves.
“My heart cried, my soul cried,” he says. “I was screaming inside. I mean, I just couldn’t believe that anybody could do something so savage. It didn’t look like Suzanne, because he had battered and beaten her face so much they had to reconstruct it. They did the best they could, but it wasn’t the Suzanne we knew.”
At the wake, the closed casket was accompanied by Suzanne’s picture and an American flag.
On the warm and sunny afternoon of Thursday, July 18, 1985, Suzanne Collins’s funeral was held in the old Fort Myer Chapel adjoining Arlington National Cemetery. There was not enough room for all the mourners inside and many had to listen to the service from outside the front door.
Susan Hand had caught a military hop to Andrews Air Force Base in Maryland, where Greg Gonzowski picked her up. She’d never been to Arlington before and she said the experience sent chills down her back.
“It was scary. All during the funeral, I was holding back a cry the whole time. Greg and I were sitting toward the back of the chapel. We were both in our dress greens and it was very hot, but that didn’t seem to matter to us.”
What did matter was when the honor guard brought in the closed white casket. Susan was overwhelmed by the imagery of the white casket, of the pure and innocent life that had been taken from them.
It was also the second time Stephen cried. He had cried when he’d first gotten the news, but then not again. Even when they viewed Suzanne’s body, he was the one who remained dry-eyed and strong for his parents. But this was too much for him.
In the memorial book he had inscribed, “Suzanne, may you rest in peace eternally, Stephen.”
Just underneath that entry, Trudy had written, “We will love you always, dear Sue Blue, Mom and Dad,” followed by a heart and a long row of Xs.
Suzanne Marie Collins, lance corporal of the United States Marine Corps, was laid to rest with full military honors in Grave Number 127, Section 50, just off Ord and Weitzel drives, near the western edge of Arlington National Cemetery.
As part of the military ceremony, the flag draping the casket is removed by the honor guard and meticulously folded into a tight triangular shape which is then presented to the next of kin. But after the flag was removed, folded, and presented to Trudy, they brought out another flag, which they proceeded to drape over Suzanne’s casket. They then followed the same procedure again, and this one they presented to Stephen. He treasures that flag and will keep it with him until he dies.
The next day, Jack and Bill Shepherd, a close friend from Glen Ellyn, Illinois, drove Susan to Andrews where she was getting a military flight back to Chicago. On the way back, Jack said, “You know, Bill, I think differently about death now.”
Bill said, “What do you mean?”
“I no longer fear it the way I used to,” Jack said. “Nothing that can possibly happen to me is as terrible as what’s already happened to Suzanne. And now I’ve got something to look forward to when I die: I can see Suzanne again.”
It was in the weeks after the funeral that the Collinses began to be able to fill in more of the details of their daughter’s life and death. I say “life” as well, because immediately they began hearing from hundreds of people whose lives Suzanne had touched, adding a dimension they always knew was there but of which they now had documentary proof. The letters, tributes, gifts of love and friendship fill many boxes in their house, all attesting to what a special person Suzanne was. Many of the people who contacted them whom they had not even met before still keep in touch and continue to visit Jack and Trudy to this day. Touchingly, many of the letters bring them up to date about their lives and confide in them the way their writers used to do with Suzanne. It seems that just about everyone who knew her has felt the need to keep her alive in their memories and active in their imaginations.
On August 20, Jack and Trudy went down to Memphis and Millington, where they met with the key people involved in Suzanne’s case. They insisted on seeing the crime scene and autopsy photos; they wanted to understand just what had happened to Suzanne and how much she had suffered. They had to read the autopsy report and see the close-ups of her face and broken body. The medical examiner, who had been reluctant to burden them with the information, told them it was the worst case he had ever seen.
They insisted on being taken to the scene of her death. “We wanted to stand on the spot where our daughter’s body lay,” said Jack. “We wanted to stand where she was brutalized and where she bled.”
When they went to the Shelby County Sheriff’s Office, Sergeant Gordon Neighbours came over to them, introduced himself, and spontaneously hugged Trudy. “I’ll tell you what should have happened to that son of a bitch,” he said. “I should have grabbed him and killed him on the spot.”
Stephen had already expressed similar sentiments that Friday evening as he sat with his parents on the edge of their bed and talked with them into the early hours of Saturday morning.
“I agree with how you feel, Steve,” Jack said. “I couldn’t agree with you more. But the guy is probably in custody now and we wouldn’t be able to gel at him. But even if we could, would we really want to become like him—a brute and a savage?”
* * *
What they put their faith in instead was the judicial process,
and they couldn’t have had a better or more dedicated advocate than Hank Williams.
As it happens, though we didn’t know each other then, Hank and I started from a similar place at a similar time. One difference, though, was that he had a law degree. Hank joined the FBI as a special agent in 1969, one year before me. His first assignment was with the Salt Lake City Field Office, then he moved to San Francisco where he worked on the organized crime unit. While there his and his wife, Ginny’s, first daughter was born. Knowing how much moving around an FBI career can mean, and knowing that he wanted to practice law at some point, he left the Bureau, moved back home to Tennessee, and went to work as a prosecutor.
Williams was in his early forties. He wasn’t falsely or overly theatrical like a lot of trial attorneys, but his seriousness of purpose and sense of mission were always evident. He recalls, “I just thought it was a pathetic circumstance that this girl joins the U.S. military to defend her country, she’s on base with all the security around her and this happens. I read the file and said to myself, this is definitely a death penalty case. I wasn’t going to plea-bargain this one, and after talking to the Collinses, I was even more resolute in that.”
Williams not only prosecuted the case as a counselor at law, he also became a psychological counselor to Jack and Trudy Collins at a time when they desperately needed to rely on a sensitive person within the system. He took it upon himself always to be there for them, to listen to their fears and anxieties and frustrations, and considered himself their advocate as they all waded through the mountain of pretrial motions and procedures.
“When they first came to Memphis,” Williams recalls, “they insisted on seeing the crime scene photographs. I was extremely afraid of this, because I felt they needed psychological help and I thought this would be too much for them. But they told me they needed to understand just what had happened and be able to share Suzanne’s pain, so I finally agreed. But once you see something like that, you can never forget it.”
