Body Hunter by Patricia Springer

and Blau would soon be apprehended.

    George Wardrip and his wife, Diana, were devastated by their son’s indictment. The couple tearfully clung to one another for strength in facing some of their darkest days. They had known for some time that their son was troubled—his drug and alcohol addictions had signaled that—but they couldn’t conceive that Faryion had taken the life of another person. In their minds he wasn’t a killer. He was good with kids, often served as the mediator in family disputes, and was a fun-loving jokester. Even with his addictions, how could their son be capable of killing someone?
    The Wardrips finally had to accept the fact that Faryion had indeed taken the life of Tina Kimbrew. But they vowed not to abandon him. They visited him in jail, sent money for commissary items like snack foods and toiletries, and kept in touch by phone. They would do all they could to help Faryion out of the dismal pit of sin he had plummeted into.
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    In December 1986, Faryion Wardrip, after pleading guilty to the murder of Tina Kimbrew, was sentenced to thirty-five years in the Texas Department of Criminal Justice (TDCJ) institutional division. Thirtieth District Court Judge Calvin Ashley pronounced the sentence after Faryion’s public defender, Christine Harris, and District Attorney Barry Macha informed the court of a plea agreement between their two offices.
    â€œFaryion’s always been willing to take responsibility for Tina’s death. It’s just been a matter of what the sentence will be,” Harris told reporters following the sentencing.
    Wardrip had informed his attorney of his desire to turn his life around and to pursue an education while in prison.
    â€œHe has one of the better attitudes I’ve ever seen as far as the outlook of what he’s facing,” Harris said. The young attorney was convinced that her client would seize all the opportunities afforded him at TDCJ.
    Wardrip had successfully persuaded his attorney that he sought change in his life; convincing her to go to bat for him. Wardrip knew that after serving only a portion of his sentence, unlike Tina Kimbrew, he would be able to go home again.
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    The tall pine trees along Interstate 45 reached toward the sky like prisoners grasping for freedom. Wardrip watched the stately pines, covered at the base of their trunks with a drape of blue bonnets, yellow black-eyed Susans, and red Indian paintbrushes, pass by his window. The Texas wildflowers and regal pines reminded him of Christmas trees hugged by colorful tree skirts. He was on his way to Huntsville, headquarters for the largest state-operated prison system in the United States.
    Wardrip’s first stop was at the diagnostic unit, where he was given both physical and psychological assessments, as well as a haircut and shave. Under the TDCJ rules, male offenders had to be clean shaven and had to keep their hair trimmed up the back of their necks and head, and neatly cut around the ears.
    Wardrip’s longish-brown hair fell to the floor as the prison barber gave him a TDCJ-issue trim. It reminded Wardrip of his brief and not so memorable time in the army.
    Once Wardrip had been judged physically sound, except for diabetes that was under control, the TDCJ psychologist began a battery of tests.
    Wardrip sat at the table across from the counselor. His dark hair was neatly parted and combed to the left, the close cut making his face appear longer and thinner than before. Without the scraggly beard and mustache, Wardrip was somewhat handsome.
    â€œThis is the block design test,” the female psychologist said, spreading blocks and a board in front of Wardrip. “I want you to put each of the blocks in the proper hole. This is a timed test. Do you understand?”
    Wardrip nodded. The psychologist pressed the button on the chrome-plated stopwatch. Wardrip worked with lightning speed, his long, thin fingers maneuvering the blocks