by Ann Rule
It is still questionable whether chemical castration (with the administration of female hormones) can achieve the desired effect; some of the most vicious sex killings in modern history have been accomplished by men who were physically or psychologically impotent. Their anger at their inability to perform only increased their homicidal rage. In several cases, their victims made the fatal mistake of laughing at them.
And chemical castration only works as long as the subject takes the hormones meant to quell sexual violence. One wonders how long a rapist, once free, would choose to continue taking female hormones.
Carl Lowell Harp, the “other” Troy Asin, was convicted on counts ranging from first-degree murder to sodomy/rape to felon in possession of a weapon. The maximum he could have received was five life sentences, one twenty-year and two ten-year sentences. After a number of violent and obscene outbursts—particularly at female parole officers, Harp admitted that he acted “crazy” because he wanted to go to Western State Hospital so he could be examined by experts and proven “a normal person.” Instead, Carl Harp went directly to the penitentiary at Walla Walla to begin serving consecutive life sentences. Because, at that time, a “life” sentence in Washington usually meant thirteen years, four months, the “consecutive” stipulation assured he would never be free.
A new statute was enacted after Carl Harp carried out his “sniper” crimes. If a future sniper should act “with utter disregard for human life” as Harp did, he would be tried for first-degree murder.
Carl Harp was not out of the headlines long. In May 1979, he and two other inmates took ten hostages and held them inside a prison office, rigged with two pipe bombs made with plastic explosives. Harp and the other convicts—convicted kidnappers—were armed with knives. Their hostages—including three women—were eight prison counselors, a guard, and a legal aide who worked outside the penitentiary. Harp listed thirty grievances the prisoners had and said the captors would give themselves up if at least three were satisfied. The prison maximum security unit was overcrowded, Harp maintained, and prisoners had no due process for their complaints.
Harp’s insurrection was short; the hostages were released at one A.M. on May 10 after they had been held for eleven hours. They were not injured. But Carl Harp was a constant thorn in the side of prison officials. Calling himself an “anarchist,” he said, “I am nonviolent. I’m not out to be a hero. I abhor violence. I’ve been treated like s-. I’ve been beat, tortured, and maced. I’m not a slave. I’m not an animal and I’m not subhuman.”
Of all the men in the world who might have an opportunity to find romance, one would think that Carl Harp, a convicted rapist and sniper, sentenced to life-after-life sentences, locked away in maximum security, might be far down on the list. But that wasn’t true. Carl Harp wrote letters constantly, and one went to an “underground” newspaper in Bellingham: Northwest Passage. A pretty eighteen-year-old college student had read Harp’s letter in 1974 and had begun a correspondence with him.
“I wanted to offer friendship and moral support,” Susan Black* said later. She had believed what Harp said in his letter—that he had not been given a fair trial.
Susan and Carl began to write to each other often. They exchanged literally hundreds of letters and poems. It was a platonic relationship at first. When Susan got married to someone else, Carl Harp sent one of his drawings as a wedding gift.
Susan’s marriage only lasted two years. When she was divorced in 1979, Harp asked her to marry him. It wasn’t a very romantic proposal, given the location. They were having a “no contact” visit, separated by thick wire mesh. Harp didn’t know if he would ever live to be out of prison; he told Susan that he was afraid he might be killed by enemies inside. But she loved him, and she agreed to marry him. He was thirty and she was twenty-three. She had dark sloe eyes, perfect features, and shimmering long black hair. He was the same bland-looking man he had always been; she adored him and believed that he had never hurt anyone.
After the hostage situation in Walla Walla, Carl Harp was transferred to San Quentin prison in California. On September 2, 1980, Susan went to San Quentin to marry him. They lived for the possibility that they might be allowed conjugal visits so that they could consummate their marriage. They wanted to have children.
Susan was happy being married to Carl, and she believed that he was happy. Still, his drawings were filled with images of death. One was a black-and-white sketch of thirteen men and one woman, all of them hanging from nooses, their hands tied behind them.
In July of 1981, Susan and Carl Harp had their first—and only—conjugal visit. He had been returned to Walla Walla from San Quentin. They were allowed to have some privacy in one of the trailers that the Washington State Penitentiary maintains so that married prisoners can be with their wives.
The two sat in the kitchen and stared at one another. “We almost didn’t know how to act after all these years of no contact and no privacy,” Susan Harp told Seattle Times reporter Erik Lacitis. “(We) sat around and laughed, just acting silly.”
And then they made love.
Susan Harp remembers her hours in a trailer behind the walls of the prison in Walla Walla as very romantic. She says Carl wrote to her about his memories of that time. “He was so enthused about the next visit,” she said.
“I love you, Wife, in case you didn’t know that … Just think, by this time tomorrow if all had worked out, where we would be … sigh.” They were to have had a second conjugal visit, but there was a lock down at the prison and all such visits were cancelled.
“Everything is going to be fine, you watch and see, and our love is going to grow and grow. Think ONLY positive, Susan …”
There was never another visit. At 6:42 P.M. on September 5,1981, when a guard brought Carl Harp’s evening meal, he found him with his wrists slashed, slumped on the floor with a television cable cord around his neck. The other end of the cord was tied to a clothes hook on the cell wall.
It took four months for Carl Harp’s death certificate to be entered into the Vital Records of Washington. Interestingly, his occupation was given as “self-employed artist.” On the line where cause of death was to be specified, the Walla Walla County coroner listed “asphyxiation and strangulation.” Under “Accidental?” “Suicide?” “Homicide?” or “Undetermined?” he chose the latter.
Carl Harp had written to his attorneys that a sympathetic guard had warned him that there was a “contract” out on his life because he was not wanted in the prison. But he had told another attorney that he was “ill with mental exhaustion. I am locked in my cell twenty-three hours a day and when I lie down, I fall into a coma. My whole being is tired.”
His widow believed that he had been murdered.
But there was no indication on autopsy that someone had strangled Carl Harp and arranged his cell to make his death look like a suicide. The injuries to his neck were commensurate with death by hanging. The cuts on his arms were not deep enough to cause death. The suicide note was in his handwriting: “I did myself so blame no one for any reason at all.” There was, however, a shredded note in the commode in his cell. Although it was pieced together by authorities, its contents were never released to the media.
An enigma he lived, and an enigma Carl Harp died. Detectives and medical examiners know how easy it is to hang oneself, and that it is not necessary for a body to drop from a considerable height. They have seen people sitting under tables who have merely leaned against a rope—and died. Carl Harp could have stood up if he had chosen to do so.
Perhaps he did not choose to stand up and take the cable off the clothes hook. Perhaps the image of Abraham Saltzman in his gun-sight came to haunt Harp in his prison cell.
And perhaps he was murdered. He had annoyed the prison administration and he wasn’t much loved by his fellow prisoners. No one will ever really know how Carl Harp died.
It is almost as difficult to choose which of two reflections of the mirror image killers was the true leader, the tru
e madman. Was it Carl Harp? Or was it James Ruzicka? When they were separated, they simply went along their own killing and raping paths. And, in the end, could not they both have been considered “madmen”?
Note: Chuck Wright has never forgotten the two “Troy Asins.” One is locked away, perhaps forever. The other has been dead for fifteen years. When the unclaimed possessions of Carl Harp were gathered up for disposal, Wright saw a drawing that intrigued him. It is one of the hundreds of sketches Carl Harp did. The sketch (reproduced here) is entitled “Family Tree, 12/10174” and signed “Carl Harp Asin “. (Wright would like to hear critiques of “Family Tree” from mental health professionals, artists, and laymen. There may be subtleties, symbolism, and clues in this drawing that no one has yet detected. Those who have comments are asked to contact Chuck Wright, Washington State Department of Corrections, Suite 100, 8625 Evergreen Way, Everett, Washington, 98208-2620.)
THE END
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This book has been more than twenty years in the making. Down through those years, so many people have helped me research, understand, and find documentation for A Fever in the Heart and the other five cases included. No one ever forgets murder cases where tragedy and betrayal are linked so closely, and time does little to dull the pain. Because of that, I particularly appreciate the many people who talked to me during the trial, and later searched their memories to help me.
And so I thank: Olive Blankenbaker, Vernon Henderson, Yakima County Prosecuting Attorney Jeff Sullivan and his staff, Mike McGuigan, the Yakima Police Department, Robert Brimmer, Mike Meyers, Marion Baugher, the late Mike Brown, Lonna K. Vachon, “Pleas” Green, the Yakima Herald-Republic (especially Librarian Donean Sinsel and Reporter James Wallace), the Yakima Valley Regional Library (especially Janna Davis and Jacob Warren), Mike Blankenbaker, and John Sandifer.
Chuck Wright, Joyce Johnson, the Seattle Police Department’s Homicide Unit, Bernie Miller, Roy Moran, Benny DePalmo, the late Dick Reed and George Cuthill, the Pierce County, Washington, Sheriff’s Office, Walt Stout, Mark French, the Oregon State Police, the Marion County, Oregon, Sheriff’s office, Jill Byrnes, Dave Kominek, Mel Gibson, the King County Police Department, Ted Forrester, Roger Dunn, Columbia County, Oregon, District Attorney Marty Sells, Phil Jackson, Herb McDonnell, the Bellevue, Washington, Police Department, Gary Trent, Mark Ericks, and scores more detectives, patrolmen, deputy prosecutors, and corrections officers whose dedication helped to apprehend, convict, and supervise the “antiheroes” in these cases from my crime files. I would also like to commend the many witnesses who had the courage to come forward and testify in court.
Although it often seems as though I never see anyone but my two dogs and two cats and my computer screen, I am always aware of my own private cheering section out there, and that helps! My gratitude goes to my editors: Bill Grose (who conceived the idea of Ann Rule’s True Crime Files); my constant and caring editor, Julie Rubenstein; Molly Allen, my quick-thinking and sharp-eyed line editor; and Leslie Stern, who helps organize our creative chaos. Also, Paolo Pepe, who works with me so graciously to create, our book covers, and Gina Centrello, our president and publisher.
Despite the fact that I seldom come up for air, I find I still have friends, and I appreciate them doubly because they do understand deadlines. To: Donna Anders, Gerry Brittingham, Tina Abeel, Lisa and Bryan Pearce-and Taryn and Ashlyn, Ruth and Greg Aeschliman-and Kirsten, Peter and Brad, Anne and Haleigh Jaeger, Sue and Joe Beckner, Maureen and Bill Woodcock, Martin and Lisa Woodcock, Lola Cunningham, Mary Lynn Lyke, Susan Paynter, Bill and Shirley Hickman, Ione and Jack Kniskern, Austin and Charlotte Seth, Clarence and Jan Shelley, Millie Yoacham and Eilene Schultz, Peter Modde, Bill Hoppe, Jennie and Harley Everson, Hank Gruber, Nils and Judy Seth, Erik Seth, Bill and Joyce Johnson, Verne and Ruth Cornelius, Barbara Easton, Jeanne Hermens and Jack Livengood, Mike Shinn and Kari Morando, Kalen Thomas and Amy Lowin, Dan “The-Sausage-Man” House, Verne Shangle, Betty May and Phil Settecase, Sue and Bob Morrison, Jennifer and Siebrand Heimstra, Bill and Ginger Clinton, Hope Yenko, Lois Duncan, Joe and Jeannie Okimoto, Carol and Don McQuinn, John Saul, Edna Buchanan, Anne Combs, Michael Sack, Judine and Terry Brooks, and Margaret Chittenden.
With the age of being “on-line,” I have made a host of new friends whom I may never see in person. Still, they have been wonderful to “talk” to. So thank you to the TimeWarner True Crime Forum, the Author’s Forum, and the CNN Forums. Thank you, Darlah and Nathan Potechin, Madeleine Kopp, Karen Ellis, Deanie Mills, Pat Moses Caudel, Emily Johnston, Joseph Carey, William Diehl, Lowell Cauffiel, Joe Bob Briggs and Clark Howard.
To my family: Laura, Leslie, Andy, Mike, and Bruce. Rebecca and Matthew, Ugo, Nancy, and Lucas Saverio Fiorante. To all of Chris Hansen’s descendants who have scattered to the four winds: Michigan, Wisconsin, Nevada, California, Florida, and the Northwest, and to the Stackhouse Clan that began in Nankin, Ohio. I love you all.
If it had not been for Joan and Joe Foley, my literary agents, and Mary Alice Kier and Anna Cottle, I would still be writing in my flooded basement in Washington State. Thanks for the dry feet and the roof over my head!
And now I thank all of you who read my books. You cannot know how much it means to hear, “I stayed up all night reading.” That is music to an author’s ears. If you are not already on the mailing list for my quarterly newsletter, and you would like to be, please write to me at: PO Box 98846, Seattle, Washington 98198.
***
In tragic life, God wot
No villain need be!
Passions win the plot:
We are betrayed by what is false within.
-George Meredith, Modern Love
Ann Rule and her daughter, author Leslie Rule. (Photo by Glenn Scott)
Ann Rule Bio
Ann Rule is regarded by many as the foremost true crime writer in America, and the author responsible for the genre as it exists today. She came to her career with a solid background in law enforcement and the criminal justice system. Both her grandfather and her uncle were Michigan sheriffs, her cousin was a Prosecuting Attorney, and another uncle was the Medical Examiner.
She is a former Seattle Policewoman, former caseworker for the Washington State Department of Public Assistance, and a former student intern at the Oregon State Training School for Girls.
Ann has been a full-time true crime writer since 1969. Over the past 30 years, she has published 33 books and 1400 articles, mostly on criminal cases. Ann has a BA from the University of Washington in Creative Writing, with minors in Psychology, Criminology and Penology. She has completed courses in Crime Scene Investigation, Police Administration, Crime Scene Photography and Arrest, Search, and Seizure, earning her an Associates Degree from Highline Community College. She also has a Master’s Degree in Compassionate Letters from Willamette University.
Ann has attended every seminar that police organizations invite her to, including those on organized crime, arson, bomb search, and DNA. She has 30 hours credit at the University of Washington Medical School earned by attending the National Medical Examiners’ Conference. She also attended the King County Police Basic Homicide School. Today, she teaches seminars to many law enforcement groups. She is a certified instructor in many states on subjects such as: Serial Murder, Sadistic Sociopaths, Women Who Kill, and High Profile Offenders. She was on the U.S. Justice Department Task Force that set up the Violent Criminal Apprehension Program (VI-CAP), now in place at FBI Headquarters in Quantico, Virginia. VI-CAP is a computer tracking system to help identify and trap serial killers. She has testified twice before Senate Judiciary Sub-committees on victims’ rights and on the danger of serial killers.
When Ann spent her summer vacations with her grandparents in Stanton, Michigan, she helped her grandmother prepare meals for the prisoners in the jail. She used to wonder why such friendly, normal appearing, men were locked behind bars, and why the sweet woman in the cell upstairs (who taught Ann to crochet) was about to go on tria
l for murder. That was the beginning of her lifelong curiosity about the “Whys” behind criminal behavior. Her books all explore the reasons behind the front-page cases she covers.
Ann’s books deal with three areas: the victims’ stories; the detectives and prosecutors and how they solve their cases with old fashioned police work and modern forensic science; and the killers’ lives. She tries to go back to the killers’ early childhood, and even back into their family histories to find some of the genesis of their behavior. She spends many months researching her books, beginning with the trial and with many subsequent visits to the locale where the crimes occurred. Once she has finished her research, she returns to her office to write her books.
Eight of Ann’s books have been made into TV movies, and five more are in the works. She won the coveted Peabody Award for the miniseries based on her book, Small Sacrifices, and has two Anthony Awards from Bouchercon, the mystery fans’ organization. She has been nominated three times for Edgar Awards from the Mystery Writers of America. She was also awarded the Washington State Governor’s Award. Ann is active in support groups for victims of violent crimes and their families, in programs to help battered and abused women, and support groups for children caught in traumatic living situations.
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