The Evil That Men Do: FBI Profiler Roy Hazelwood's Journey Into the Minds of Sexual Predators by Stephen G. Michaud, Roy Hazelwood
Authors: Stephen G. Michaud, Roy Hazelwood
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Hazelwood was operating two seven-chair barbershops in Spring Branch. As a result the mortgage was paid and there always was food on the Hazelwood family table, but only because Louella managed the home economy, says her son.
“One time my dad won something like a hundred thousand dollars in a poker game. Then he took it to Las Vegas and lost it all in three days. On another occasion, my mother went home to North Dakota for a visit. While she was gone, he gave me her car and bought new Fords for each of them. When she got home she raised hell with him. He had to return the Fords and take back her car.”
In retrospect, Roy believes Earl Hazelwood was manic-depressive—or bipolar, in modern psychiatric parlance—swinging between exultant highs and troughs of despond.
“My dad chased rainbows. He was constantly making deals, selling this and buying that. I’d come home night after night to find him sitting up in the living room, bent over, an ashtray full of cigarette butts next to him. He was thinking of ways to make money!”
Man and boy finally did stumble toward common ground, growing closer as Roy matured from aimless adolescence into adulthood, a process Earl did much to abet. If he wasn’t much of a role model, Earl Hazelwood nevertheless provided Roy with frank and sensible advice.
When Roy graduated from high school and announced he planned to buy a ’57 Chevy, his Dad asked him, “Where do you want to live?”
“What do you mean?” Roy asked.
“You’re eighteen, a man now,” Earl said. “You have thirty days to find yourself a place to live and get a job.”
He let that prospect sink in for a moment, then suggested an alternative. If Roy would forget about the car and consider heading for college, Earl said, he’d help finance Roy’s education.
School had scant allure for Roy, but the prospect of manual labor was even less appealing.
“Uh, college sounds pretty good,” he said.
It was Dad, as well, who urged Roy to join the ROTC at Sam Houston State, and to remain with it even though Roy hated the ROTC.
“You can certainly drop it if you want,” Earl said, but he then reminded Roy he’d surely be drafted into the army the moment he graduated. “You’ll be the one who’s going to be peeling potatoes instead of giving the order for them to be peeled,” Earl advised.
Roy heeded what he was told, and entered the military police as a second lieutenant after college. True to his nature, he didn’t choose the MPs out of any particular interest in law enforcement or intention of making them his career. Rather, Roy perceived that among his alternatives—infantry, cavalry, engineers, and the rest—MPs were the least likely soldiers to sweat and get dirty.
Earl was satisfied.
Then in 1962, Roy was sent to Oxford, Mississippi, to help protect James Meredith, the first black student to enroll at the University of Mississippi.
“My dad almost disowned me over that,” he recalls. “He was a racist. When I told him I had orders to go to Ole Miss, he said, ‘Resign your commission.’ I told him I couldn’t. I’d taken an oath to uphold the Constitution of the United States.”
Time and Earl’s advancing ill health eventually resolved all conflicts between them. In 1975, as his dad lay dying a painful death from emphysema in a Houston hospital, Roy spent two weeks with him. To the end, Earl remained in charge of their relationship.
“Go on back home,” he announced to Roy from his hospital bed one day. “You were here when it counted. You don’t need to come back for my funeral.”
Not long thereafter, Earl expired in Louella’s arms.
7
Organized and Disorganized
Roy’s best-known contribution to criminology—the organized-disorganized criminal behavior dichotomy—first occurred to him one day while he was taking a shower.
He had been contemplating James Odom and James Lawson, Jr., a pair of convicted rapists who’d met as inmates at a state mental institution in
“One time my dad won something like a hundred thousand dollars in a poker game. Then he took it to Las Vegas and lost it all in three days. On another occasion, my mother went home to North Dakota for a visit. While she was gone, he gave me her car and bought new Fords for each of them. When she got home she raised hell with him. He had to return the Fords and take back her car.”
In retrospect, Roy believes Earl Hazelwood was manic-depressive—or bipolar, in modern psychiatric parlance—swinging between exultant highs and troughs of despond.
“My dad chased rainbows. He was constantly making deals, selling this and buying that. I’d come home night after night to find him sitting up in the living room, bent over, an ashtray full of cigarette butts next to him. He was thinking of ways to make money!”
Man and boy finally did stumble toward common ground, growing closer as Roy matured from aimless adolescence into adulthood, a process Earl did much to abet. If he wasn’t much of a role model, Earl Hazelwood nevertheless provided Roy with frank and sensible advice.
When Roy graduated from high school and announced he planned to buy a ’57 Chevy, his Dad asked him, “Where do you want to live?”
“What do you mean?” Roy asked.
“You’re eighteen, a man now,” Earl said. “You have thirty days to find yourself a place to live and get a job.”
He let that prospect sink in for a moment, then suggested an alternative. If Roy would forget about the car and consider heading for college, Earl said, he’d help finance Roy’s education.
School had scant allure for Roy, but the prospect of manual labor was even less appealing.
“Uh, college sounds pretty good,” he said.
It was Dad, as well, who urged Roy to join the ROTC at Sam Houston State, and to remain with it even though Roy hated the ROTC.
“You can certainly drop it if you want,” Earl said, but he then reminded Roy he’d surely be drafted into the army the moment he graduated. “You’ll be the one who’s going to be peeling potatoes instead of giving the order for them to be peeled,” Earl advised.
Roy heeded what he was told, and entered the military police as a second lieutenant after college. True to his nature, he didn’t choose the MPs out of any particular interest in law enforcement or intention of making them his career. Rather, Roy perceived that among his alternatives—infantry, cavalry, engineers, and the rest—MPs were the least likely soldiers to sweat and get dirty.
Earl was satisfied.
Then in 1962, Roy was sent to Oxford, Mississippi, to help protect James Meredith, the first black student to enroll at the University of Mississippi.
“My dad almost disowned me over that,” he recalls. “He was a racist. When I told him I had orders to go to Ole Miss, he said, ‘Resign your commission.’ I told him I couldn’t. I’d taken an oath to uphold the Constitution of the United States.”
Time and Earl’s advancing ill health eventually resolved all conflicts between them. In 1975, as his dad lay dying a painful death from emphysema in a Houston hospital, Roy spent two weeks with him. To the end, Earl remained in charge of their relationship.
“Go on back home,” he announced to Roy from his hospital bed one day. “You were here when it counted. You don’t need to come back for my funeral.”
Not long thereafter, Earl expired in Louella’s arms.
7
Organized and Disorganized
Roy’s best-known contribution to criminology—the organized-disorganized criminal behavior dichotomy—first occurred to him one day while he was taking a shower.
He had been contemplating James Odom and James Lawson, Jr., a pair of convicted rapists who’d met as inmates at a state mental institution in
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