one horrendous incident, Terry claims the 250-pound Knorr jumped up and down on her while she was handcuffed underneath her antique oak desk. She crushed the young girl’s stomach and seriously affected any chance of her ever having a child.
More than a year after Sheila’s death—and following countless beatings at the hands of her mother—Terry heard the news that she hoped might just help to break up this incredibly unhappy family unit.
“We’re outta here. We’re movin’ out,” announced Theresa Knorr. “Terry, I gotta job for you…”
Ten
“My mom was a criminal genius. She knew how to do things so she could get away with them. That’s why I got the hell out.”
Terry Groves, in her statement to police
In the dense predawn mist, no one noticed the slight figure scrambling out of the back window of the small house just off Auburn Boulevard, the house that had been home to the Knorrs for the previous three years. The only noise was the occasional distant purr of a V8 engine on Interstate 80, a quarter of a mile to the west.
Terry Knorr’s heart was beating at a furious rate. The seconds were ticking away. Terry would later recall how she had been instructed by her mother to burn their home to the ground. It was 3:40 A.M. on September 29, 1986.
Just a few hours earlier, Theresa Knorr had set out the plan in very professional terms. She had concluded that even though the closet where Sheila died had been very carefully cleaned and then another piece of board hammered over the top of the bloodstained floor, it still constituted a risk to her liberty. Lysol wouldn’t work. Spic and Span would not get it out of the air. Fire had worked before on one of her daughters. Maybe it would work again. Theresa Knorr was worried that whoever moved into the apartment after them would probably rip out that board and see the bloodstains.
She instructed her only surviving daughter to wear gloves, spray the Gulf charcoal lighter fluid all around the house quickly, then get out the window, before throwing the match in and running down the street to the motel where she was sharing a room with Robert.
The scared, confused sixteen-year-old spread the contents of the lighter fluid throughout the house and threw a lighted match on the floor before she had got out of the back window—and almost ended up suffering the same fate as her sister Suesan.
Scorching heat brushed the soles of her bare feet as she scrambled out of the window, the flames already licking through the back of the inside of the house.
Not daring to even look behind her, Terry just kept hearing her mother’s orders: “Keep running. Keep running.”
In the distance, sirens wailed.
As she weaved through the trailer park and toward the exit to Auburn Boulevard, Terry saw a fire truck turning in toward the house. But no one stopped her. No one even noticed her.
A few minutes later, out of breath and adrenaline still pumping furiously, Terry banged on the door of the room at the Las Robles Motel on Auburn. Theresa Knorr answered. Robert stood sheepishly in the background.
* * *
The fire at the house on the 2400 block of Auburn Boulevard was investigated by Officer Stan Brock. He found some clothes left in a rear bedroom by the Knorrs and rapidly came to the conclusion that there was absolutely no doubt the blaze had been started deliberately.
He also noted in his report on the day after the fire that Theresa “Knor Ross Sanders”—it should have been Knorr Cross Sanders—was three months behind with her rent and had been served with an eviction notice.
Case #86-86905 was never solved by the fire department, despite the fingers of accusation being pointed so firmly at Theresa Knorr and her clan. They tried to locate the family, but no one seemed to know where they had moved.
* * *
Howard Sanders thought he would actually behave like a dutiful son and go visit his mother a few days later, so he got quite a shock when he turned
More than a year after Sheila’s death—and following countless beatings at the hands of her mother—Terry heard the news that she hoped might just help to break up this incredibly unhappy family unit.
“We’re outta here. We’re movin’ out,” announced Theresa Knorr. “Terry, I gotta job for you…”
Ten
“My mom was a criminal genius. She knew how to do things so she could get away with them. That’s why I got the hell out.”
Terry Groves, in her statement to police
In the dense predawn mist, no one noticed the slight figure scrambling out of the back window of the small house just off Auburn Boulevard, the house that had been home to the Knorrs for the previous three years. The only noise was the occasional distant purr of a V8 engine on Interstate 80, a quarter of a mile to the west.
Terry Knorr’s heart was beating at a furious rate. The seconds were ticking away. Terry would later recall how she had been instructed by her mother to burn their home to the ground. It was 3:40 A.M. on September 29, 1986.
Just a few hours earlier, Theresa Knorr had set out the plan in very professional terms. She had concluded that even though the closet where Sheila died had been very carefully cleaned and then another piece of board hammered over the top of the bloodstained floor, it still constituted a risk to her liberty. Lysol wouldn’t work. Spic and Span would not get it out of the air. Fire had worked before on one of her daughters. Maybe it would work again. Theresa Knorr was worried that whoever moved into the apartment after them would probably rip out that board and see the bloodstains.
She instructed her only surviving daughter to wear gloves, spray the Gulf charcoal lighter fluid all around the house quickly, then get out the window, before throwing the match in and running down the street to the motel where she was sharing a room with Robert.
The scared, confused sixteen-year-old spread the contents of the lighter fluid throughout the house and threw a lighted match on the floor before she had got out of the back window—and almost ended up suffering the same fate as her sister Suesan.
Scorching heat brushed the soles of her bare feet as she scrambled out of the window, the flames already licking through the back of the inside of the house.
Not daring to even look behind her, Terry just kept hearing her mother’s orders: “Keep running. Keep running.”
In the distance, sirens wailed.
As she weaved through the trailer park and toward the exit to Auburn Boulevard, Terry saw a fire truck turning in toward the house. But no one stopped her. No one even noticed her.
A few minutes later, out of breath and adrenaline still pumping furiously, Terry banged on the door of the room at the Las Robles Motel on Auburn. Theresa Knorr answered. Robert stood sheepishly in the background.
* * *
The fire at the house on the 2400 block of Auburn Boulevard was investigated by Officer Stan Brock. He found some clothes left in a rear bedroom by the Knorrs and rapidly came to the conclusion that there was absolutely no doubt the blaze had been started deliberately.
He also noted in his report on the day after the fire that Theresa “Knor Ross Sanders”—it should have been Knorr Cross Sanders—was three months behind with her rent and had been served with an eviction notice.
Case #86-86905 was never solved by the fire department, despite the fingers of accusation being pointed so firmly at Theresa Knorr and her clan. They tried to locate the family, but no one seemed to know where they had moved.
* * *
Howard Sanders thought he would actually behave like a dutiful son and go visit his mother a few days later, so he got quite a shock when he turned
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