Nobody's Women: The Crimes and Victims of Anthony Sowell, the Cleveland Serial Killer by Steve Miller
Authors: Steve Miller
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closed, and she walked over and tried to open the door.
“What you doing, what you doing?” Sowell said, running down the hall. The door was locked. That door was never locked. The sitting room of the third floor overlooked Imperial and had a small window at the front, allowing some light in. Two bedrooms were located on each side of the hallway leading to the living room. The room Sowell and Lori used—now just Sowell—abutted the living room but had no door between the two rooms. It seemed as if he were hiding something in that front room. As it turned out, he was.
Lori thought it was “strange…all this stuff happening, windows broken, him all cut, seemed like every time I was seeing him he was all cut up.”
“Are you getting high still?” she turned and asked him one day. She had already seen the stem, a hollow chamber used to smoke crack, on his dresser.
“No,” he responded. And he asked her to leave.
* * *
On March 6, 2008, Lori Frazier’s warrant caught up with her, big-time. She was caught in a car with a crack pipe. It wasn’t a relapse, exactly, because she hadn’t really given it all up, try as she might. It was the beginning of the end, as they say.
Lori tried to give a fake name to the officer—Tharisa Frazier—but it was her time to go. She went back to the Cuyahoga County Corrections Center, a place she knew well. In fact, Lori knew the judicial system incredibly well. She had been on probation, done community service, and escaped fines only because she was constantly declared indigent.
Now she was in the county lockup, and that was about it.
This is when Anthony Sowell made his move to prove his love.
It’s said that reaction is often more telling than action, and if so, Sowell’s reaction to Lori’s incarceration was indicative of some heart and soul. Yes, he was on drugs, and he was abusive, and he could be violent to Lori.
“Nobody in her family visited, nobody, but me,” Sowell said. “I was there three times a week sometimes and I wasn’t working. I would walk all the way from my house…to save a little money. I put it on her books,” he said, meaning that he credited the money he’d saved by walking to Lori’s prison account. “Sometimes I had money to go, but when I didn’t I didn’t miss no days.”
Lori got out on Wednesday, April 23, posting a $1,000 personal bond; no bondsman would take the risk on her. Sowell had come up with the money.
Despite Sowell’s generosity with the bond, Lori didn’t come back to Imperial. She moved to a small house in Twinsburg, twenty miles south, where some relatives of hers were renting. She was worn out with Sowell, although she would still occasionally come by the house on Imperial.
But she wasn’t able to keep things together, and they were moving fast now.
On May 28, 2008, she blew off her court date, and another warrant came her way. She was arrested again June 25.
This time, she made her court date. And this time, Sowell came down to the courthouse with her.
As he sat in the gallery, he watched the parade of people who had made a mess of their lives.
“I just met her lawyer that morning when I got there,” Sowell said. “They called her out a little…after that and she went in front of the judge. This lawyer and judge knew each other. It was going bad for her.”
But Lori’s attorney pulled it off. He told the judge that Lori’s boyfriend had come in. No one ran Anthony Sowell’s background; no one knew he was a sexual violator with fifteen years of penitentiary time behind him. On that day, he was the hero, the guy who cared.
Judge Nancy McDonnell called on Sowell to come forward, and he testified on Lori’s behalf.
“I got up there in front of the judge and told her that[Lori] got people,” Sowell said. “I told her I love her, I’m always there for her and she got people who care…
“I was getting ready to cry. But that turned the tide for her. The judge put her on probation, strict
“What you doing, what you doing?” Sowell said, running down the hall. The door was locked. That door was never locked. The sitting room of the third floor overlooked Imperial and had a small window at the front, allowing some light in. Two bedrooms were located on each side of the hallway leading to the living room. The room Sowell and Lori used—now just Sowell—abutted the living room but had no door between the two rooms. It seemed as if he were hiding something in that front room. As it turned out, he was.
Lori thought it was “strange…all this stuff happening, windows broken, him all cut, seemed like every time I was seeing him he was all cut up.”
“Are you getting high still?” she turned and asked him one day. She had already seen the stem, a hollow chamber used to smoke crack, on his dresser.
“No,” he responded. And he asked her to leave.
* * *
On March 6, 2008, Lori Frazier’s warrant caught up with her, big-time. She was caught in a car with a crack pipe. It wasn’t a relapse, exactly, because she hadn’t really given it all up, try as she might. It was the beginning of the end, as they say.
Lori tried to give a fake name to the officer—Tharisa Frazier—but it was her time to go. She went back to the Cuyahoga County Corrections Center, a place she knew well. In fact, Lori knew the judicial system incredibly well. She had been on probation, done community service, and escaped fines only because she was constantly declared indigent.
Now she was in the county lockup, and that was about it.
This is when Anthony Sowell made his move to prove his love.
It’s said that reaction is often more telling than action, and if so, Sowell’s reaction to Lori’s incarceration was indicative of some heart and soul. Yes, he was on drugs, and he was abusive, and he could be violent to Lori.
“Nobody in her family visited, nobody, but me,” Sowell said. “I was there three times a week sometimes and I wasn’t working. I would walk all the way from my house…to save a little money. I put it on her books,” he said, meaning that he credited the money he’d saved by walking to Lori’s prison account. “Sometimes I had money to go, but when I didn’t I didn’t miss no days.”
Lori got out on Wednesday, April 23, posting a $1,000 personal bond; no bondsman would take the risk on her. Sowell had come up with the money.
Despite Sowell’s generosity with the bond, Lori didn’t come back to Imperial. She moved to a small house in Twinsburg, twenty miles south, where some relatives of hers were renting. She was worn out with Sowell, although she would still occasionally come by the house on Imperial.
But she wasn’t able to keep things together, and they were moving fast now.
On May 28, 2008, she blew off her court date, and another warrant came her way. She was arrested again June 25.
This time, she made her court date. And this time, Sowell came down to the courthouse with her.
As he sat in the gallery, he watched the parade of people who had made a mess of their lives.
“I just met her lawyer that morning when I got there,” Sowell said. “They called her out a little…after that and she went in front of the judge. This lawyer and judge knew each other. It was going bad for her.”
But Lori’s attorney pulled it off. He told the judge that Lori’s boyfriend had come in. No one ran Anthony Sowell’s background; no one knew he was a sexual violator with fifteen years of penitentiary time behind him. On that day, he was the hero, the guy who cared.
Judge Nancy McDonnell called on Sowell to come forward, and he testified on Lori’s behalf.
“I got up there in front of the judge and told her that[Lori] got people,” Sowell said. “I told her I love her, I’m always there for her and she got people who care…
“I was getting ready to cry. But that turned the tide for her. The judge put her on probation, strict
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