launching a detailed description of killing and how to avoid being caught.
Ned wrote that he was always thinking about it.
“It” being killing a woman.
His point was that although it was always on his mind, he didn’t necessarily drive around town like Bundy and prowl for victims or, as he put it, “find a situation.”
What was clear from the letters was that Ned enjoyed the art involved in getting away with a crime as evil as murder. It was something he aspired to. Not a goal, per se, but more than a game. He liked playing. With his victims first. Cops second. Meeting Mary Ellen that night, he wrote, fooling her into inviting him upstairs into her apartment, was a perfect situation. When it was over, however, and he realized Mary Ellen had survived, Ned said he knew he was going to get caught. But even when the cops came and he was arrested—he beamed later when remembering the time period in his letter—he was thrilled how everyone the cops spoke to about him couldn’t say anything bad. No one really knew him. They talked of the man they thought they knew. But Ned had fooled them. And there they were, like fools, supporting him, when he knew damn well that his goal that night, the game he had played with Mary Ellen Renard, involved murder.
Ned loved it: the thrill of fooling all of them. It was part of crime itself.
27
I
By April 1988, Ned’s attorney, John Bruno, knew more about his client than he had perhaps wanted to know. An attorney from Middlesex County had visited Bruno’s office one afternoon, bringing with him information that didn’t bode all too well for his client. “The method of attack,” the prosecutor explained to Bruno, talking about Mary Ellen’s case, “is strikingly similar to an unsolved murder at Rutgers.”
There was that case again, hovering in Ned’s past. Even if he hadn’t committed the crime, the way in which the murder had been carried out, was almost identical to that of the attack on Mary Ellen. With that, Bruno wondered how he was going to get around explaining the case away. Ned was in trouble down the road when his case went to court. And yet, Bruno realized, Ned’s network of supporters seemed to grow with each passing week. People were coming forward to support him. Promising to walk into court and explain that he wasn’t some psychopath who could kill people and attack them with knives. It just wasn’t in his character.
II
What was it about that Rutgers murder that made investigators certain Ned had been involved? “He could be a likeable guy—piano player, salesman, captain of the softball team, a guy’s guy,” Bruno explained to me years later. “He was always organizing the parties, the softball games. He seemed like somebody who always wanted to have a company picnic. Not some quiet little nerd who sits in the corner and is afraid to face people socially.”
According to the women Bruno spoke to, Ned was “charming” and always “polite.” Bruno had to go to Ned with the allegations from Middlesex, explaining to him that the Middlesex murder had the parallels of a repeat offender, and was intrinsically similar in signature to the attack on Mary Ellen. Bruno explained that Ned had been on Middlesex’s radar for some time, but they had no evidence to arrest him. They had even questioned Ned a few times, but they had to release him due to the fact that they had nothing with which to charge him.
After Bruno went to Ned and explained the situation, Ned thought about it. The bottom line was this: What if, while he was in jail awaiting trial on the Mary Ellen Renard charge, Middlesex came up with some sort of new evidence? Ned knew he had killed the woman in Middlesex. He thought he had gotten away with it. He believed he left no evidence. But what if something surfaced?
Murder one. The death penalty. Add the Mary Ellen Renard attack to the Middlesex case and he would face death if a jury found him guilty.
“It’s something to think
Ned wrote that he was always thinking about it.
“It” being killing a woman.
His point was that although it was always on his mind, he didn’t necessarily drive around town like Bundy and prowl for victims or, as he put it, “find a situation.”
What was clear from the letters was that Ned enjoyed the art involved in getting away with a crime as evil as murder. It was something he aspired to. Not a goal, per se, but more than a game. He liked playing. With his victims first. Cops second. Meeting Mary Ellen that night, he wrote, fooling her into inviting him upstairs into her apartment, was a perfect situation. When it was over, however, and he realized Mary Ellen had survived, Ned said he knew he was going to get caught. But even when the cops came and he was arrested—he beamed later when remembering the time period in his letter—he was thrilled how everyone the cops spoke to about him couldn’t say anything bad. No one really knew him. They talked of the man they thought they knew. But Ned had fooled them. And there they were, like fools, supporting him, when he knew damn well that his goal that night, the game he had played with Mary Ellen Renard, involved murder.
Ned loved it: the thrill of fooling all of them. It was part of crime itself.
27
I
By April 1988, Ned’s attorney, John Bruno, knew more about his client than he had perhaps wanted to know. An attorney from Middlesex County had visited Bruno’s office one afternoon, bringing with him information that didn’t bode all too well for his client. “The method of attack,” the prosecutor explained to Bruno, talking about Mary Ellen’s case, “is strikingly similar to an unsolved murder at Rutgers.”
There was that case again, hovering in Ned’s past. Even if he hadn’t committed the crime, the way in which the murder had been carried out, was almost identical to that of the attack on Mary Ellen. With that, Bruno wondered how he was going to get around explaining the case away. Ned was in trouble down the road when his case went to court. And yet, Bruno realized, Ned’s network of supporters seemed to grow with each passing week. People were coming forward to support him. Promising to walk into court and explain that he wasn’t some psychopath who could kill people and attack them with knives. It just wasn’t in his character.
II
What was it about that Rutgers murder that made investigators certain Ned had been involved? “He could be a likeable guy—piano player, salesman, captain of the softball team, a guy’s guy,” Bruno explained to me years later. “He was always organizing the parties, the softball games. He seemed like somebody who always wanted to have a company picnic. Not some quiet little nerd who sits in the corner and is afraid to face people socially.”
According to the women Bruno spoke to, Ned was “charming” and always “polite.” Bruno had to go to Ned with the allegations from Middlesex, explaining to him that the Middlesex murder had the parallels of a repeat offender, and was intrinsically similar in signature to the attack on Mary Ellen. Bruno explained that Ned had been on Middlesex’s radar for some time, but they had no evidence to arrest him. They had even questioned Ned a few times, but they had to release him due to the fact that they had nothing with which to charge him.
After Bruno went to Ned and explained the situation, Ned thought about it. The bottom line was this: What if, while he was in jail awaiting trial on the Mary Ellen Renard charge, Middlesex came up with some sort of new evidence? Ned knew he had killed the woman in Middlesex. He thought he had gotten away with it. He believed he left no evidence. But what if something surfaced?
Murder one. The death penalty. Add the Mary Ellen Renard attack to the Middlesex case and he would face death if a jury found him guilty.
“It’s something to think
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