Ted Bundy

by Stephen G. Michaud

  But, more importantly, what’s this crap about Stephen or me telling people that you are planning an escape?

  TB: Where else could it have come from?

  HA: That’s the most ridiculous thing I ever heard of. In the first place, though we’ve discussed escape, you’ve never done anything but try to avoid the whole subject. And I understand why.

  TB: Last time, I said. . .

  HA: Let me finish. Secondly, if you had told me you had such plans, why would I talk about it? The book won’t be out for more than a year and we need more time with you to square up some facts we’ve discussed before. I don’t want to lose access to you because the prison thinks you’re heading south some morning.

  Thirdly, I don’t think you can do it. It’s a hell of a lot different escaping from the Aspen courthouse or the Glenwood Springs jail than it is out of this fortress. Hell, sometimes after we finish talking, I am not sure I’m going to get out of here.

  TB: Well, I didn’t think you would do anything, but, uh, Carole. . .

  HA: I think you have to face it, Ted: Carole thinks you’re innocent and we know otherwise, so she can’t imagine why we’re not coming up with all sorts of evidence that proves you innocent. In fact, since I last saw you, she has written to Stephen and asked that he come back to talk to you – that you two have more rapport and so on. You’re not going to hear anything gracious or good about Michaud and Aynesworth from your wife. You, of all people, should realize that.

  TB: Yeah, but you know you kept trying to get me off on talking about escape the last time. . . uh, the last two times you were here. And right after that, I started getting bugged about it. And I am not even comfortable talking with Carole about such things.

  All you’ve done that I can see is upset some of the family and write a couple chapters about my escapes. If I had wanted somebody harassed and. . .

  HA: I cannot imagine what family members we have upset or offended. I telephoned your uncle in Arkansas and asked to discuss your youth with him. He explained that he might lose his position if he were to become associated publicly with you, and so we left him alone and made no further effort to talk to him.

  On the escape chapters, yes, we got those done pretty well because they are about the only relatively current facts you’re willing to help us with. Outside of your step-by-step tales of how you outsmarted the people in Aspen and the jailers at Glenwood Springs and your successful career of boosting everything from a benjamina tree to cars, you haven’t been all that helpful. I know that. . .

  TB: You knew going in that I wasn’t going to confess to anything. If I was guilty (pause) – and I’m not, of all these things you think I did, do you think I would just come out and lay it on the line? What would be my motivation?

  HA: Well, when I first started on this project, I thought you must have had some exculpatory information – something that could shed doubt on something, but long ago I determined you did not. That was, I figured, the only good thing that could come out of your participation. Now I honestly don’t know why.

  (Bundy raises a hand, rolls his eyes, and takes a moment to closely scrutinize all wires present in the room. They all seem to be firmly connected with the interviewer’s recorder.)

  TB: All right, but you know I don’t feel right about our deal. Nothing has happened, and as I sit here month after month I have to wonder if you two have taken everything and forgotten about me. You promised that you would. . .

  HA: We promised, as we are both abundantly aware, that we would investigate any and all possibilities that might lead to exculpatory information for your defense. Free. For nothing! Gladly – and professionally. In return, you agreed you would make yourself available to us, as often as needed, and tell us the truth about all your activities.

  For several months, I traveled all over the west and southwest trying to run down rumors and possibilities – things that you and Carole thought might be productive. Want to know the scorecard on that? About twenty to nothing, pure ass crap! We haven’t been able to find enough to get one of those credit card thefts of yours turned around!

  And you know why? Because you’ve been absolutely no help. That’s Number 1. And Number 2, because you don’t have anything to help with. You can’t even tell me where you were on a given holiday. . . sometimes, even, on your birthday.

  TB: Well, maybe I just won’t participate anymore. I don’t see anything good coming out of it.

  HA: Would you have wanted Stephen and I to just sit and talk and act like we believed everything you told us about your innocence? Would that have pleased you? I guess you expected us to come up with a real mystery here: “Is Ted Bundy, that wonderfully clever fellow, being railroaded by circumstantial evidence?”

  We made it damn clear – and to the family and to Carole also – that we would investigate for you and give you and your attorneys anything that might help you. Almost in the same breath, we said we would be compelled to write the truth as we saw it – no matter which way it fell.

  Now you just don’t like the way it fell. And we’re well aware that Carole thinks we’re a couple of shits. I don’t know how it works, but you’ve got her fooled. She really, I think, believes you didn’t do anything. And so she thinks we are out to cause you even more grief.

  You have been cooperative in some ways, I’ll admit. You’ve given us access to your school records, letters, court documents, and the like. But you got pissed off when we tried to interview Liz, you made us promise not to interview your grandfather, and you’ve stonewalled on what you promised to write about Chi Omega – which you offered to contribute months ago.

  TB: Now wait a minute, Hugh, it’s true that I’ve been somewhat less than helpful in some areas, but it hasn’t been intentional. It’s a combination of being in here, of not trusting several people I used to trust on the outside, and just going through an emotional period where I have forgotten a lot of details.

  Can you tell me where you were on December 8, 1975, or even February 5, 1980? Why are you grinning and shaking your head? This may be funny to you, but. . .

  HA: No, it’s not funny to me. I have spent a lot of time dealing with you and Carole and at least a dozen weirdos these past months, and Stephen and I have spent every bit of the advance money the publisher gave us just trying to catch it. That, and running down the bogus investigative leads you two have provided us.

  I only think it funny – and a little sad that you’re not realistic about all this. Every fake lead I ran down cost us. We spent the time and money. We realized, and it didn’t take very long, that you weren’t leveling with us on anything. . . and now you complain to us that you feel left out, that you think, somehow, we have reneged on our agreements.

  I’ll be the first to agree that we haven’t moved the project along as fast as we would’ve liked, but that’s not our fault.

  TB: Well, it seems that both you and I are dissatisfied with this relationship. You want something I cannot give you. . . and yet, you act like I promised it.

  I’ve done my best, and at some personal cost, to describe to you the person that did these crimes – from my knowledge from reading of the crimes and my study of the psychological bent of such people in our society. I’ve tried to explain the moods, feelings, and subtleties.

  I thought that by now – it’s been almost two years of this – you and Steve would have the book done. It seems as though you have done little toward it. You’re still trying to get me to step quite a ways further than I ever agreed to.

  I don’t need any more of this. Just last month I had an offer – you saw the letter, I think – to do a big, big interview with a major network. I didn’t even answer it.

  HA: It is up to you; do what you want. But to get back to the main reason I came down here – well, actually, there were about three, but we’ve discussed most of them. We don’t want you to believe that we’ve said anything publicly about you planning to escape. . . or not planning to. In the first place, as we both know, you have
refused to talk about it – even though I was curious a couple times.

  It would be ridiculous for us to comment on such a thing. In fact, if it were in the works, I don’t want to know about it. I think it would be suicide for you – with the feeling Florida has about you. And, frankly, right up until today, I hoped you still had something to share with us. And while I didn’t think you’d ever be pleased with the book, I thought you would understand that we went about our task honestly – and came to our conclusions honestly.

  TB: I guess you are justified in your arguments, but let’s just say that one becomes paranoid in here. No way to get out your frustrations. Oh, you can get ’em out, okay, but the results might be worse than the frustration. And I keep hearing about the questions you’ve been asking people. I don’t know. And you never seem to want to meet with Carole. And she is definitely a part of this.

  HA: I understand your concern, but it’s hard to deal with a well-intentioned person who lives in the dark about the subject. That’s a problem you have fostered and nurtured. . . and someday you’re going to have to deal with it in a much sounder manner. But that’s your business, not mine. But it does become a problem for Stephen and me.

  (The guard stops by the door and says, “Five minutes.”)

  TB: See? They know everything that’s going on. Next time we ought to try to get that other room. It’s louder. The heating and air conditioning in there sort of vibrates or something.

  HA: Hell, if they wanted to know anything, they could just take my tapes when I leave. I’d raise hell, but by the time they had to give them back, they could have them copied. Well, anyway, where were we?

  TB: You were leaving, a very dissatisfied man. . . and I was telling you that you shouldn’t be; that you have more information in these months of interviews than anybody will ever have about Ted Bundy. Are you planning to come back tomorrow?

  HA: No, they’ve told me there are a dozen lawyers or so that need a lot of time with their clients and that I probably couldn’t get back in for a few days. I’ll have to go back home and do some transcribing. But I’ll check with Carole and see how things are.

  March 31

  Another letter from Bundy: “I need to talk to you. What’s going on?” This will be the final meeting with Ted.

  TB: I didn’t know if you were coming back or not. Carole said she had not heard from you or Steve. I got to thinking, after that last get-together, that I had been somewhat testy with you and that your remarks about your relationship with Carole – while not particularly pleasing – may have had some merit. Like you said, she is in a peculiar situation and there’s no reason why any of us should like each other, uh, necessarily.

  But I’d certainly like to feel that I can trust you two. I haven’t the slightest idea what’s going on with the book, and I have to feel like my further help is just lost time. You have not kept me informed. You have told me, in effect, that my suggestions are meaningless to you. And who does this New York person think she is, writing to me and telling me she wants me to confess!

  HA: Well, nobody has used the word “confession.” But we have told our editors, constantly, that you insisted on writing what you suggested for the opening chapter, the Chi Omega thing. God, we’ve talked about it so much, I’m almost blue in the face.

  You told me last summer, then last fall, and again this year that you were “working on it.” Last time I was here you told me you’d try once again. You said we might have to work on it a bit, redo it or whatever. . . but that it would be unique, something unusual, something damn hard.

  TB: Uh, I don’t know how hard it would be.

  HA: Well, not hard, but I mean something new, something, you know – because you said you’d go into this person, what his feelings were that night, you know, the day before, what he was doing, that sort of thing.

  TB: As I recall, I formu –. . . uh, advanced the idea of me writing something, simply to help you and Steve get an idea of what I continue to believe would be the only way to approach this thing.

  HA: We talked about it three or four times.

  TB: We talked about it.

  HA: I asked you point blank, “What do you envision in this thing?” and you told me “his feelings, how it would have operated, how it would have happened” We agreed it would be something that nobody would know about but it would be striking enough to grab the reader.

  TB: Yeah, actually, I suppose it would be.

  HA: And I have done nothing on the idea with the governor because, once again, the ball’s in your court. You seemed completely disillusioned about the project – and your role in it – last month. You said nothing about it in your letter and, as you know, without your complete cooperation, I’m not about to raise the issue.

  TB: What do you think I could do – in here?

  HA: The same thing we discussed in the past. One, make a list of all the cases you were involved in. A no-shit list – times, places, dates, names if you knew ‘em. Two, give the list to me or give it to Carole when she comes in.

  No, that won’t work, will it? Okay, just write me a letter with the dates listed in it. Then a few days later, send another letter with just the names of the towns. Listed in the same order if you can. Then I’ll come back and we’ll sit down and get specific. . . but first, after checking with some of the police jurisdictions – and we know pretty much what we’re talking about here, don’t we? I’ll then contact the governor and see if they want to work out some sort of a deal.

  TB: That sounds all well and good, for you, but it means nothing to me and, as I recall, I long ago rejected it as an idea or an approach.

  HA: No you didn’t.

  TB: Now. . .

  HA: Okay, after talking to Carole, I figured you might have changed your mind, but listen to this. . . damnit, listen to exactly what you said, uh, last October.

  (A tape of the lengthy session in which Hugh offers to contact Governor Bob Graham is played. Bundy smokes three cigarettes and chews his nails, acting nonchalant, disinterested.)

  TB: Then I reject it now. The word “confession” is used. . . or “will confess” or something to that. . . on that order. You’re filled with ample material on tapes where I say again and again that I’m not going to. . . there’s no point, there’s. . . there’s nothing to confess.

  HA: You say you’ll help with the crimes. How are you going to help somebody with crimes if you don’t confess?

  TB: I’ll tell them I didn’t do it. Wouldn’t that help (laughs)?

  HA: I don’t think so. You’ve already told ’em that.

  TB: That’s their problem. But I. . . what I’m saying is that, uh. . . if you color (it) by making that kind of approach, uh, come-on. . . you’re coloring the kind of response you get. . . the bias and, uh, that. . . that’s going to lead you not to accurate information but to (unintelligible) information.

  HA: All right, you want to talk about accurate information. Let’s talk about accurate information. You’ve lied to us on several occasions, Ted.

  TB: I don’t know what about.

  HA: Well, on several occasions you’ve lied to us. Well, let’s see. . . let’s just. . . Christ, I’ll turn it off if you like! You know, this is ridiculous! You’re sitting there and telling me you’ve never lied to me. In the first place, you told us you had nothing to do with any of these crimes. That’s not reasonable!

  TB: Sure it is.

  HA: Look, you like for people to have respect for your brain, your mind and yourself. Well, maybe I’d like that same respect. I don’t understand. You know if you had visited with me and you had investigated many crimes that I was concerned with and you came to the conclusion that I was guilty and I kept saying, “No, I’m not. . . I wasn’t there. I can’t tell you where I was, but I wasn’t there.” This one and that one. You know, how would you feel? You’d feel like your intelligence was being insulted, wouldn’t you?

  TB: I, uh, well, I might feel that way. It depends on just my mood. It may not simply be a cas
e of insulting intelligences because, I mean, I have no best interest in insulting your intelligence. I certainly get no gratification from it. I know you have to make a living. . . and you have to produce something that’s. . . that’s, uh, uh, acceptable to persons who have different priorities than I do. And I have different priorities than they do. What we’re trying to do is reach a compromise. I don’t think it’s a matter of insulting intelligences, uh, necessarily.

  HA: All right. You remember when I asked you five times. . . maybe six times, if you would tell me a number; how many victims. . . how many people. And you said, “Well, I’ll try to think of a way to do that.” You said to me one time, “Well, perhaps I can.” You said, “Bring me a list of the names and dates of those”. . . and then you stopped and said, “No, that won’t work because they’re all attributed to me and I’m not going to be involved in that!”

  Well, what the hell were you? You know, what were you going to help me with? You were just going to make up a number?

  TB: Hmmm.

  HA: You’re. . . you’re not. . . Ted, you’re not innocent, goddamnit. I don’t care if you’re innocent or not, but you’re not. . . and you lied to us all the way.

  TB: I never made any promises I didn’t keep.

  HA: Bullshit! When Stephen and I agreed to investigate every possible nook and cranny to try to find exculpatory evidence for you – because you swore it was all out there, just waiting for somebody to pull it together – you swore that you would tell us the truth, the absolute truth.

  Of course, we skirted that, didn’t make an issue of it, for months, until Stephen left and I was your conduit. Months ago I stopped acting like I thought you innocent and you stopped thinking up places for me to go and investigate ridiculous allegations and “evidence.” And we, of course, realized that to confront you any stronger than we did was to risk losing your input, the cooperation you have given. After all, you had virtually nothing to gain – and potentially, plenty to lose.

  And, I’ll have to admit, that despite what your original intentions (were), you’ve given us considerable insights into a killer’s mind. You can always say you are innocent, but there are those who will know you are talking about yourself.