TB: Yeah, I mean, there was. . . I found something inherently attractive and compelling – I don’t know what the other word would be, but certainly attractive – about my uncle. His demeanor, his intellect, his culture, and so forth. But, while he is probably our closest relative – I mean, one of the closest – I had really never spent a lot of time with Uncle Jack. We’d go out to their place on the Olympic Peninsula from time to time. I’d spend a couple weeks out there in the summertime. But, uh, I greatly admired my Uncle Jack and Aunt Eleanor.
HA: Have you heard from them lately?
TB: They stopped by on the way back from seeing my aunt. When I was in the Leon County jail, they stopped by. But I never. . . (clears throat) They were always sort of a different (again). . . well, they lived in a different society than my parents did.
HA: They lived in a society you wished your parents were in, right?
TB: Well, yeah. I wished I was in, sure.
HA: And yet you couldn’t quite attain it. You couldn’t quite push your way in. You weren’t quite there.
TB: Well, I was a kid! I couldn’t pick up and leave home and. . .
HA: Sure.
TB:. . . and go off and find that kind of world. I mean, it wasn’t feasible. It was impossible. But, uh, certainly I envied my cousin John and the advantages that, uh, he had. . . growing up in that kind of family.
HA: He’s your age, isn’t he?
TB: A little bit older. A few months older.
HA: Somebody told me when I first started questioning folks that John had always thought you were guilty – and expressed that to the family – and it caused some bad feelings.
TB: He never expressed it to me (laughs). . . so for that reason, it doesn’t bother me if he felt that way anyway. Again, I’ve. . . it wouldn’t make any difference if everybody thought I was guilty. I mean, I’ve just insulated myself from that. So what? What’s it going to mean to me? I’m in jail. What people think. . .
HA: It’s not going to cost you a hell of a lot more.
TB: What people think of me is not going to do anything more to me. If I had a pin driven into my skin for every person who thought I was guilty, then I might start to worry about it, but I don’t feel that way.
June 26
HA: You’ve never been religious, have you?
TB: Not. . . certainly not in the conventional sense. Not in a sense that I’ve envisioned the Bible as divinely inspired and the word of God. In the sense that I would attempt to pattern my life after, using principally the guidelines set down. In that sense, I’m not religious. In the sense that (pause) I’m something of a pragmatist when it comes to religion. I’m not a religious person in the sense that I’m a missionary or Bible-thumper or even a person who prays or dwells on Christianity or the existence of God. I’m pragmatic when it comes to organized religion. I think it’s a tremendous, stabilizing force – a good force. And the lessons that it teaches, when it teaches them successfully. . . when you get past the hypocrisy. . . God knows there’s a good deal of hypocrisy in practicing Christians, but organized religions are good for the society.
And I recognize that I might belong to a church and I don’t look down on ‘em, most of the religious people, even though I tend to believe a lot of them are terribly hippocratic. . . or hypocritic(al).
But nevertheless, it’s a cohesive factor in the community.
HA: It binds so many people together. You’ve talked to Stephen about the decline of the family. Of course, the church has been the main, cohesive factor in a family. Many build their lives around it.
TB: Yeah, uh, church does require, uh, demand a certain amount of mediocrity and nonthought; don’t rock the boat, you know. My mother and I used to have, not bitter arguments but very serious arguments or discussions in the late ’60s and early ’70s about the failure of the church – our church in Tacoma in particular – to take a stand against the Vietnam war. That was – clearly if anything was contrary to the doctrines of Christianity, or anything in the Old Testament as well, it would be the Vietnam war. I felt there was a glaring failure on the part of organized religion to really practice what it preached, so to speak.
HA: Well, also in the area of racial equality. You’d think that if there is to be racial equality, the church would be the one place to say, “Come, let’s do it here!”
But you do believe in a Supreme Being, don’t you?
TB: Yeah, well, I believe in a higher power or force, which is above and beyond, perhaps, even our comprehension. The gods of the religions around the world are real in that they represent something that a man reaches out for, that’s larger and more powerful than he. Unfortunately, those who do not fully comprehend that power, attempt to create God in man’s image and clothe it. Man’s urges and desires and passions in God end up being, uh, a personality. Which seems totally foreign to reality.
HA: You have a way of deviating around a question if you don’t like it. A few days (ago) we started to talk about your future, but, as usual, we wound up a few miles south. So I’m going to begin again, slowly (laughs). How do you characterize yourself? What do you think of Ted Bundy? What are your thoughts about eventually being put to death here?
TB: Okay, well, to the first part, I don’t care about the great mass of people out there. I care about people I know and come in contact (with) and how they feel about me. You asked me how I’d describe myself, not how I would like myself to be. I mean, if I was to project any image, it’d be the image of what I am. And a lot of that. . . There’s no way the essence of me can be communicated through any medium, other than through continuous and long contact.
However, if I were to describe myself, okay, or as I perceive myself to be. . . and not necessarily in order of importance. . . I would, ummm, I would have to say that I am a person who is constantly changing, but not in a state of flux, not in an unstable mold.
HA: What about the news media? You seem to have mixed emotions. You told me a few days ago you figured the news media had cost lives in certain kinds of cases. Would you elaborate?
TB: The public has a right to know. It’s just a question of when. I mean, do they have the right to know facts that may or may not be introduced in the trial? Or may or may not be admissible? Before the trial begins? Does the news media have the right to contaminate the jury pool before trial with evidence that may not be admitted in the trial? Does the defendant, who often does not even go to trial, have the right to see his life produced and reproduced in the newspapers as a result of the access the news media has to the court system? Uh, I think the public has the right to know that a crime has been committed and the name of the victim of the crime. They have the right to know that somebody’s been arrested – and the name of the person arrested. That’s all they have the right to know before trial.
HA: That’s similar to the legal-media situation in England.
TB: Exactly like in England. The public has a right to be present in the jury room and present in the courtroom. The cameras do not.
HA: Can you sit here and honestly tell me that you didn’t play to the cameras in the Chi Omega trial particularly? That you didn’t use every interview you’ve ever had to pry out some sort of advantage?
As for how much fact should be released before trial, it sometimes cuts both ways, like most things do in our justice system. For instance, if nothing but the accused’s name was released before trial, what would that do to the person who had been unfairly charged with a crime? Haven’t you seen cases where the media scrutiny on a case has freed innocent people?
TB: There may be some. I don’t know of any.
HA: Well, I could refresh your memory. But it isn’t important because you believe that your jury panel might have been tainted in the Leach case because of the fact your Chi Omega trial was televised all over Florida a few months beforehand. And, in that instance, you may, indeed, be right.
Let’s examine for a moment how heavy media attention to a case can work in favor of the public. Suppose
– we’re doing a lot of supposing these days – we have a handsome young man who has allegedly killed three dozen or more young women in five or six different states. Since he’s done several in one state. . . moved on to another and done six or eight more, and on and on, the states themselves didn’t pay much attention to this man – didn’t even know who he was – until he was captured in still another state. Suddenly there’s an avalanche of publicity and people start recalling he was here, there, and over there. Witnesses suddenly appear. Even victims, some of whom got away, come forth.
Now, though this may be somewhat bitter medicine, don’t you think that society has been served? And don’t you think without the media, this man may have never been put away for good?
TB: Well, the press has the capacity for both good and evil.
HA: Agreed. Fully. But let’s address the hypothetical I tossed out.
TB: Who’s to say this man was really guilty of the three dozen or whatever number you patched together there? Maybe he didn’t do them. Then look what harm was inflicted on this human being.
HA: I’ll be the first to admit that law enforcement has, from time to time, stacked cases – given a killer credit for more than he’s done, lumped a hundred burglaries on a guy who doesn’t care because he’s going away for life anyway. But I defy you to show me one case in the U.S. – no matter how long ago – where a man charged and convicted of several murders was really innocent.
I guess we’re not going to get anywhere on this one. You used the press when it suited you: when you were involved in minor cases or in Colorado on what some cops considered a rather weak murder case. But then, when it all fell on top of you – and the press pointed to you like you were an animal – you didn’t like it. I can’t say I blame you, but frankly, I’d hope they reacted just as strongly in any such case.
What hurt you far more than any press coverage was the fact that you have never, ever been able – or, should I say, willing – to reveal where you were on the occasions of the three Florida murders or any number of others in the western states. I’ve asked you. I’ve begged you. You get this pout on your face, hunch up your shoulders, and refuse to say anything about alibi. What do you suppose the odds are that somebody suspected in three dozen murders or more has not one – not a single one – alibi that he was somewhere other than the crime scene?
TB: Is this an interview where I cooperate with you and Steve to try to explain how all these crimes happened, uh, probably, or is this going to be a crucifixion with Ted on the stake? I think Carole’s judgment is correct. I don’t think you’re interested in the truth or a reasonable approach to digging beneath the surface here. And if you think I enjoy any of this, you are considerably off base, too.
If I want the kind of abuse you’re giving me, I can get it, with ease, back on The Row. And probably make somebody happy inflicting it. I don’t think you’re having such a good time at it. If you want to. . . uh, find out the truth, Hugh, all you have to do is investigate in some of the cases.
HA: I’ve done that. . . And I think you know full well, I’ve done that. I started out believing that you might be innocent. There’s always that chance. And your family and friends – and you – swore that you were. But after a few months of crisscrossing the country, I know what you’ve done. I don’t know how many, but I know it’s at least more than anyone has claimed.
TB: If you were a lawyer, I’d. . . No, I’m not about to share with you those salient facts that, uh. . . I’m just thinking here. Back to that thing you said about the press helping an innocent man: You said you could name some. Let’s see if you can come up with something other than the conjecture I’ve been hearing here this morning. Have you ever helped free an innocent man? You’ve been a newspaperman for many years.
HA: No, I don’t suppose I have, but I’ve seen numerous occasions. Like the Clay Shaw case of about ten years ago. Shaw walked free after two years and only one ballot by the jury. (And) Gene Miller, an acquaintance of mine on the Miami Herald, won, I believe, the Pulitzer Prize for winning the release of a man on Florida’s Death Row when he proved him innocent. I don’t think you. . .
TB: Those are completely different kinds of situations. One had all the publicity in the world and the other had virtually, I would assume, no publicity. It’s not the case here.
I can see how it’s possible for a newspaper to get on such a crusade and rescue someone. They can do good. But it’s also possible for them, in their zeal to fill column inches and minutes on the evening news, to publicize in a sensational way the criminal justice system – and harm a defendant who has not yet had his day in court. And the harming, I think, is much worse than the occasional time they do something to help an innocent person.
Most defendants aren’t harmed by excessive press coverage because the news media can’t make their living off the run-of-the-mill burglary. In that case, usually all you have is the name of the victim, the accused, and a brief summary of events, right up to the trial. And even then there isn’t much reporting done. So most defendants aren’t affected.
But in the hard cases, where the pressure is on the judge and on the system to perform and the press comes in and creates even more pressure, it multiplies the chance for error.
HA: Well, we got off to a rather rocky start here today and I don’t know whether we’re going to get productive or not, but I’m going to run my list and tell you what I think. If you want to call it a day, I’ll understand.
TB: You haven’t touched me. I’m not affected by what you think.
HA: Tell me your thoughts on capital punishment.
TB: Hmmm. Well, we discussed this earlier, uh. . . Do you have a cigarette? Thanks. It is motivated solely and exclusively by this perceived need of the state, the prosecution, and the victim and his family, to – and in this case, obviously – to obtain revenge. To be fulfilled in that need for revenge, the measure for measure, an eye for an eye. There’s nothing more.
It isn’t a deterrent. In fact, in one of the books about me it says, “Why did Ted come to Florida?” Of all states, why to the state of Florida? Where they have this death penalty and all these people on Death Row. The inference was made, I recall, that I was seeking out, that I was trying to be self-destructive or something. But I’ve never gone to a state or researched the state’s capital punishment laws to determine how many people are on Death Row. I didn’t think of Florida in those terms. My opinion is that the law is, the death penalty is, of absolutely no deterrent value – and I think that’s supported by recent crime statistics for the state of Florida, which shows that murder is increasing.
HA: Of course – so is the population and so are the complexities in our lives – which drive a lot of us to the brink.
TB: There’s no question that it’s an effective way of, uh, oh, killing a person who society has adjudged responsible for the crimes. And that’s about the only things it does. It does not, it will never restore any measure of compensation to the victims’ families or to the state. None whatsoever. To the contrary, I think, that one of the factors that contributes to the increase in homicide is the fact that there is capital punishment.
If the state can justify the taking of a life, then an individual can, for whatever twisted rationale. And the state, with all its power and majesty – if it can be reduced to the level of killing – then why shouldn’t some individuals take that as justification for engaging in what they might believe is justifiable homicide?
HA: You pose some interesting questions there. Let’s look at something else that we have explored before but not intimately enough. This model we’re talking about, this entity, have you ever thought or imagined this person having any unusual physical manifestations during the time he was “acting out”? Any strange feelings, smells, noises?
TB: That’s a pretty far-out thing there.
HA: Any detachment or mood or anything?
TB: Well, there’d be some fairly eccentric reactions. You wouldn’t be able to say that this
was necessarily something that happened, but I. . . I don’t see any indication whatsoever – with the facts we’ve been dealing with – that the personality we’re dealing with suffered from any of those, uh, symptoms.
HA: Any difference in vision, dizziness, or anything like that?
TB: I suppose that if he took peyote or mushrooms, there might be that reaction, but nothing that one might consider as the, uh, spontaneous kind of internal sensation.
HA: Those are some things that psychopaths have related later in describing. . .
TB (agitated): We’re not dealing with a psychopath or an antisocial personality. We’re not dealing with a hollow shell or somebody who is a manipulator, uh, per se.
HA: Well, good, that was what I was leading up to. How do you describe this person? He’s not a psychopath, you claim. He’s not. . . well, he’s certainly antisocial at times.
TB: You define him in operational terms and with as much specificity as you can, but you have to tailor his profile specific with, a specific reference to the exact nature of his behavior and the exact nature of the facts of the cases he’s charged with – and not rely on stereotypes. They’re grossly inaccurate.
HA: But there are some characteristics that we’ve seen develop in this personality that do fit some stereotypes, aren’t there?
TB: They do. And they are also incongruous to the same stereotypes in other respects. You don’t use the labels, you don’t. . . you can’t adopt whole the models we’ve developed from other studies. You have to approach each individual on a case-to-case basis, maybe gaining some insight from other case studies, but you have to test out those insights to see if they apply.
You just can’t apply them blindly and you almost have to experiment with them. “Does this apply? Or doesn’t this?” You have to be critical in examining the application of this systemology. It doesn’t necessarily apply because this person fits into the general behavioral pattern.
Ted Bundy Page 18
