TRACE EVIDENCE: The Hunt for the I-5 Serial Killer by Bruce Henderson Page B
Authors: Bruce Henderson
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scene, he drew the unenviable job of searching for body parts in garbage cans and Dumpsters in an effort to pick up the trail of Sacramento’s fiendish “VampireKiller.” Reed had not complained or made excuses that day, nor since. Whenever the inevitable telephone call came to respond to another scene of unspeakable violence, whether it was three in the morning or during a holiday dinner, he offered no hint of a night’s sleep cut short or a personal life intruded upon.
Before showing up at the morgue for the autopsy, Reed had driven south on Interstate 5 for half an hour—beyond where Stephanie Brown’s abandoned car had been found and then, a few minutes later, past where Charmaine Sabrah’s car had broken down northbound. He turned west onto Highway 12 at its intersection with I-5. Ten miles beyond where Brown’s body had been found, he came to where Jane Doe had been discovered. Both locations, he noted, were no more than a mile off Highway 12.
Knowing it had been dark during recovery of the body the previous night, he made a careful check of the area for any evidence, but found none.
Taking it all in at the scene, Reed was in his usual attire of wash-and-wear slacks, button-down shirt sans tie, and an old tan corduroy blazer that his wife usually had to peel off him to have cleaned.
Standing on the narrow, sloped levee that separated the river from the road by only 20 feet, Reed figured that the victim had been killed elsewhere and transported here. It looked like the killer had dumped the bodyfrom the road and that it rolled down the embankment before stopping short of the water.
At the autopsy later that morning, the pathologist began by taking a close look at the ligature, which appeared to be an article ofclothing. It had been rolled tightly and looped once around the victim’s neck, with the remaining portion used to bind her wrists behind her back. The material was knotted twice behind her neck.
Reed recalled that Stephanie Brown had died by ligature strangulation. He added this to the list of similarities between the twocases. But still, he would be careful not to jump to the conclusion that they were the work of the same killer. Not now or any time soon. Stan Reed simply did not operate that way.
Reed was struck by how high the dead woman’s hands and wrists were pulled up behind her back by the taut binding. The closer he looked, the more the angle seemed anatomically impossible. He was somewhat surprised when the pathologist reported no broken bones in her arms or wrists.
She had been hogtied so securely that Reed could picture the killer cinching the binding tighter and tighter before finally tying it off. At that point, he could have stood back and watched, as any effort by the victim to try to lessen the strain on her arms would have pulled the loop around her neck that much tighter. She may well have ended up strangling herself.
How quickly death came, no one, not even the pathologist, could say for certain. However long it had been, Reed knew it wasn’t quick enough. Her agony was frozen on the death mask: a blackened tongue extended out from her mouth torturously, clasped firmly between her teeth.
The pathologist cut the ligature at two places to remove it. Deep ligature marks were found embedded in the skin at the front of the neck. The filthy, coiled material turned out to be a pink, ribbed tank top. To document how they had fit together, the pathologist meticulously strung the now three separate pieces together with twine.
The victim was wearing designer blue jeans, black suede–type loafers, and gray socks. Checking the pockets and finding nothing, the pathologist slit the jeans up both sides to remove them. Underneath were bikini panties.
The autopsy took less time than usual. The skull contained no brain matter at all, and when the pathologist opened the abdominal cavity he found it swarming with maggots and devoid of any major organs.
Given the delay in discovery of the
Before showing up at the morgue for the autopsy, Reed had driven south on Interstate 5 for half an hour—beyond where Stephanie Brown’s abandoned car had been found and then, a few minutes later, past where Charmaine Sabrah’s car had broken down northbound. He turned west onto Highway 12 at its intersection with I-5. Ten miles beyond where Brown’s body had been found, he came to where Jane Doe had been discovered. Both locations, he noted, were no more than a mile off Highway 12.
Knowing it had been dark during recovery of the body the previous night, he made a careful check of the area for any evidence, but found none.
Taking it all in at the scene, Reed was in his usual attire of wash-and-wear slacks, button-down shirt sans tie, and an old tan corduroy blazer that his wife usually had to peel off him to have cleaned.
Standing on the narrow, sloped levee that separated the river from the road by only 20 feet, Reed figured that the victim had been killed elsewhere and transported here. It looked like the killer had dumped the bodyfrom the road and that it rolled down the embankment before stopping short of the water.
At the autopsy later that morning, the pathologist began by taking a close look at the ligature, which appeared to be an article ofclothing. It had been rolled tightly and looped once around the victim’s neck, with the remaining portion used to bind her wrists behind her back. The material was knotted twice behind her neck.
Reed recalled that Stephanie Brown had died by ligature strangulation. He added this to the list of similarities between the twocases. But still, he would be careful not to jump to the conclusion that they were the work of the same killer. Not now or any time soon. Stan Reed simply did not operate that way.
Reed was struck by how high the dead woman’s hands and wrists were pulled up behind her back by the taut binding. The closer he looked, the more the angle seemed anatomically impossible. He was somewhat surprised when the pathologist reported no broken bones in her arms or wrists.
She had been hogtied so securely that Reed could picture the killer cinching the binding tighter and tighter before finally tying it off. At that point, he could have stood back and watched, as any effort by the victim to try to lessen the strain on her arms would have pulled the loop around her neck that much tighter. She may well have ended up strangling herself.
How quickly death came, no one, not even the pathologist, could say for certain. However long it had been, Reed knew it wasn’t quick enough. Her agony was frozen on the death mask: a blackened tongue extended out from her mouth torturously, clasped firmly between her teeth.
The pathologist cut the ligature at two places to remove it. Deep ligature marks were found embedded in the skin at the front of the neck. The filthy, coiled material turned out to be a pink, ribbed tank top. To document how they had fit together, the pathologist meticulously strung the now three separate pieces together with twine.
The victim was wearing designer blue jeans, black suede–type loafers, and gray socks. Checking the pockets and finding nothing, the pathologist slit the jeans up both sides to remove them. Underneath were bikini panties.
The autopsy took less time than usual. The skull contained no brain matter at all, and when the pathologist opened the abdominal cavity he found it swarming with maggots and devoid of any major organs.
Given the delay in discovery of the
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