Blood, Bullets, and Bones Page 15

  Police tried a new approach to catching the killer. They brought in bloodhounds and were prepared to set them on the killer’s trail if another victim was found. This may have scared the killer off for a while, but by the time the dogs were needed, they were no longer at the disposal of Scotland Yard. One hound, Barnaby, had been ordered home when the owner learned the dog had been used to track a burglar. He feared that neighborhood criminals would poison the beloved pet to avoid being caught.

  And so the killer would get away with murder again. On November 9, twenty-five-year-old Mary Jane Kelly was found dead not in the streets but in her room, the youngest victim of Jack the Ripper. Her wounds were similar to the other victims’, but her body was even more badly mutilated. Investigators believed the killer had spent more time with the body because of the privacy of the room. Scotland Yard took crime scene photos of the murder scene—the first of their kind. Mary Jane’s murder also led to one of the first criminal profiles.

  Dr. Thomas Bond, police surgeon in the Westminster section of London, was called on to examine Mary’s body and read police notes from the previous Ripper murders in order to determine how much “surgical skill and anatomical knowledge” the killer had.5

  Bond provided that information and more. In regard to the question of knowledge, Bond said the killer had none. “In my opinion he does not even possess the technical knowledge of a butcher or horse slaughterer or any person accustomed to cut up dead animals.”6

  Bond further provided the following criminal profile of the killer: “The murderer must have been a man of physical strength and of great coolness and daring. There is no evidence that he had an accomplice. He must in my opinion be a man subject to periodical attacks of Homicidal and erotic mania. . . . The murderer in external appearance is quite likely to be a quiet inoffensive looking man probably middleaged and neatly and respectably dressed. I think he must be in the habit of wearing a cloak or overcoat or he could hardly have escaped notice in the streets if the blood on his hands or clothes were visible.”7 Bond added that the killer likely kept odd hours and had no regular job. If the killer had a family, they likely suspected him in the murders.

  Unfortunately, the profile did not lead to an arrest. But Ripper may have stopped killing. Other murders followed, but though in some ways similar, they didn’t bear the clear marks of the earlier Ripper murders. Many detectives believed that Mary Jane Kelly was Ripper’s last victim, and that afterward, he was killed or committed to an insane asylum by family members who sensed his true identity.

  Police had several suspects; one top investigator, Sir Melville Macnaghten, assistant chief constable, narrowed the list down to three in an 1894 report:

  •M. J. Druitt, a doctor whose family believed him to be the murderer. His body was found in the Thames in late 1888, the victim of suicide.

  •Kosminski, a resident of Whitechapel who hated prostitutes and had homicidal tendencies. He was confined to an insane asylum in March 1889.

  •Michael Ostrog, a Russian doctor who was in and out of prison and suffered from “mania.” He was released from prison in March 1888 and confined again November 18.

  Many books and articles have come out purporting to name the real Jack the Ripper. Some even suggest that Ripper moved to America or Australia and became a serial killer there. But the fact that so many “real” culprits have been named shows that the killer is a mystery to this day. It is still challenging to track down a stranger killer. With no personal connection to the victim, and no obvious motive, the trail runs dry. Or so the murderer hopes. In the 1970s, the FBI made a science of tracking down these elusive killers—and through their work, many were brought to justice.

  On October 12, 1979, Francine Elveson was found murdered in New York City. She was beaten, mutilated, and bitten. The only evidence found was a hair classified as African American, which would turn out to be a false lead. A six-month manhunt by the New York Police Department turned up nothing.

  The department knew that the FBI had recently formed the Behavioral Science Unit. Its psychological profilers were visiting prisons and interviewing serial criminals to learn how they thought and acted. Through these interviews, profilers learned things that every armchair detective knows today: that criminals keep evidence as souvenirs, for instance, and that crimes tend to be clustered around areas familiar to the killer. John Douglas from the Behavioral Science Unit was called in to help with the case.

  John Douglas from the Behavioral Science Unit

  Douglas made several observations based on what the Behavioral Science Unit had learned from past crimes. For instance, he knew that the more time a killer spent at a scene, the more comfortable he was in that location. Based on the amount of time the killer spent at this scene, Douglas theorized that he either lived nearby or knew the victim. Douglas also said that because Francine was strangled by her purse strap, the crime was likely committed impulsively, suggesting mental illness. Contrary to the hair evidence, Douglas thought the murderer was white, as this type of crime usually occurs within the killer’s own racial group.

  The criminal profile was of an unkempt, unemployed white male, age twenty-five to thirty-five, who had a history of mental illness and lived nearby. This led police to Carmine Calabro, who was white, thirty years old, unemployed, and had a connection to the building—his father lived there. He did have a history of mental illness, but therein lay a problem: he was institutionalized at the time of the murder. However, as the investigation showed, Carmine had left the mental institute, committed the murder, and then walked back. The hair that had misled investigators at the start had been transferred from a contaminated body bag.

  This case built a reputation for the Behavioral Science Unit, so other police departments sought their help. The unit also drew the attention of novelist Thomas Harris, who was researching the novel series that would include The Silence of the Lambs. For that book, he wanted his protagonist to be a female FBI agent, but there were none working in the Behavioral Science Unit at the time. Instead, he interviewed an agent outside the unit, Dr. Patricia Kirby. She would be influential in the creation of the character Clarice Starling.

  Anthony Hopkins and Jodie Foster in the film The Silence of the Lambs

  Kirby actually hoped to become part of the Behavioral Science Unit someday. She believed that because the majority of serial killers were men, and their victims overwhelmingly women, it would make sense to have women profilers. Their strength would be twofold: When conducting victimology studies, women would be able to relate to the victim. And when talking to a criminal, she said, “a woman will listen more and not judge and that lack of judgment entices someone to be more forthcoming.” Kirby went to work for the Behavioral Science Unit in 1984.8

  In Harris’s book, released in 1988, FBI agent Clarice Starling interviewed the psychotic criminal Hannibal Lecter to gain insight into another serial criminal she was tracking, Buffalo Bill. Inspired by the character, more women FBI agents applied to the Behavioral Science Unit. Mary Ellen O’Toole was one such agent. Though her father had been an FBI agent, she actually became interested in investigative work while working as a security guard at a department store. In that capacity, she witnessed a man stealing a piece of jewelry—by swallowing it. She then talked him into coming to a back room, where another worker searched his bag for merchandise. Inside was a butcher knife. At the time, police were searching for a serial killer in the area. O’Toole wondered if this could be the guy. It wasn’t, but the excitement of the moment spurred O’Toole to join the FBI, where she would help put many serial killers away.

  Mary Ellen O’Toole, FBI agent

  In a documentary about The Silence of the Lambs and the FBI Behavioral Science Unit, O’Toole explained the advantage of being a woman when interrogating a suspect. She said that serial killers don’t tend to have normal relationships with women but are fascinated by them. “No matter how violent their crimes against female victims, they still, for the most part, love to talk wi
th women,” she said.9

  O’Toole played a key role in investigating the Green River murder case. DNA evidence had linked Gary Leon Ridgway to several women’s bodies found near Washington State’s Green River. They sought his confession for other killings in which there was no DNA evidence. Gary had an incentive to confess: if he did, prosecutors would not seek the death penalty. But he was a pathological liar and so would lead investigators on treks to find the bodies and then pretend he couldn’t remember where they were. Investigators grew tired of this routine and called in O’Toole. By talking to him in a warm and friendly way, she led him to confess to the suspected murders—along with killings the police didn’t even know about. He even drew O’Toole an accurate map of where the bodies could be found.

  Investigators search for the remains of one of Gary Leon Ridgway’s victims.

  The Behavioral Science Unit is known for its work in catching serial criminals, but the unit actually helps law enforcement in other hard-to-crack cases as well. FBI profiler Gregg McCrary was called on to help in a strange and tragic case known as the Buddhist Temple Massacre. It took many twists and turns, but in the end, his initial reading of the crime scene proved to be correct.

  On August 10, 1991, nine people were found murdered at the Wat Promkunaram Buddhist Temple outside Phoenix. Found by a temple workman, they lay in a circle—six monks: Pairuch Kanthong, Surichai Anuttaro, Boochuay Chaiyarach, Chalerm Chantapim, Siang Ginggaeo and Somsak Sopha; a monk in training, Matthew Miller; a nun, Foy Sripanpasert; and another temple worker, Chirasak Chirapong. It appeared that they had been kneeling in prayer. Because of the heinous nature of the crime and the interest both in America and Thailand (the birthplace of the monks and many of the temple worshipers), the FBI was called in to assist. McCrary hopped on a plane with a colleague.

  Criminal profiling starts with an analysis of the crime scene. At the temple, signs pointed to there being two killers. For one thing, there were two different brands of cigarettes found at the scene, and there was evidence of two guns being fired. Though the word “Bloods” was carved on the wall, the crime scene didn’t point to a gang killing. Fire extinguishers had been sprayed around the temple, nonsense that wouldn’t have gone down in a killing for hire. Also, the bullets found came from a .22-caliber rifle, and a 20-gauge shotgun typically used for bird hunting. Gangsters aren’t exactly known for weekend bird hunts; in the realm of shotguns, they tend to favor 12-gauge weapons.

  Just as caliber is a measurement for rifles and handguns, gauge is a measurement used for shotguns. Like caliber, it indicates the diameter of the gun barrel, but inversely. The gauge describes the number of lead balls in a pound, with each ball being the maximum size to roll down the barrel of the shotgun. In a 20-gauge shotgun, twenty lead balls weigh one pound. In a 12-gauge shotgun, just twelve of the balls weigh a pound, meaning the balls must be bigger, and the barrel in which they fit larger. Thus, a 12-gauge shotgun has a larger barrel than a 20-gauge. In other words, the larger the caliber, the larger the gun barrel, but the smaller the gauge, the larger the gun barrel. (Note that the lead balls aren’t actually used as bullets in shotguns. Instead, shells filled with pellets—or shot—are used as ammunition.)

  Police remove bodies from the Wat Promkunaram Buddhist Temple, where six monks were killed.

  For McCrary, the evidence pointed to three things: “disorganization, youth, and stupidity.”10 He suggested that the investigators focus on young suspects who lived in the neighborhood. His victimology work drew the same conclusion. The victims at the temple weren’t involved in drug smuggling, as investigators had first thought, but lived truly religious lives. It was unlikely they were targets in a gang killing.

  On September 10, the task force learned that two teenage boys, Rolando Caratachea Jr. and Johnathan Doody, had been stopped for suspicious activity on August 21, and a .22-caliber rifle had been found on the passenger side of the car. The rifle was confiscated on September 10 but wasn’t put through to firearm analysis right away.

  That’s because on the same day, a man from a Tucson psychiatric hospital called police, identifying himself as Mike McGraw and saying he knew who committed the crime. He named four men: Mark Nunez, Leo Bruce, Dante Parker, and Victor Zarate. The four other men, along with McGraw himself, were arrested and subjected to hours of interrogation. All but Zarate confessed. He was released when videotapes confirmed his alibi.

  Russell Kimball, homicide chief for the sheriff’s office at the time, has since said the interrogations were mishandled. He said that officers who had never dealt with murders or major crimes were allowed to interview the suspects, and some of the officers fed the suspects information about the crime. The officers wouldn’t take no for an answer.

  “We hammered on those guys until we broke their will, it was as simple and as bad as that,” he told the Arizona Republic. “After a while they were willing to say anything.”11

  McCrary didn’t think any of the confessions added up. Why would these men drive from Tucson to Phoenix to kill a group of holy people in a remote Buddhist temple? Later, all four men recanted their confessions. McGraw also denied ever calling the police. He said someone had used his name while making the call. Confessions or no confessions, police still planned to try the men, who were now known as the Tucson Four. That is, until results from the teens’ .22 rifle finally came in. It matched the casings found at the scene.

  Rolando, Johnathan, and Johnathan’s best friend, Alessandro Garcia (with whom Johnathan said he’d fired the rifle recreationally), were picked up for questioning. Rolando said he had lent the rifle to his friends, Johnathan and Alessandro. Investigators ruled out Rolando as a suspect but questioned the two other teens, using the same hard-core tactics they had used with the Tucson Four. Alessandro at first confessed to committing the murders with the four men. But it soon became clear to investigators that the Tucson Four had nothing to do with the murders. They were released, and three went on to sue Maricopa County for its handling of the case, all winning damages totaling in the millions.

  That left Johnathan and Alessandro. Alessandro was on the hook for another murder. After the temple massacre, he had convinced a girlfriend to help him kill a woman at a campground. Another man, who had falsely confessed to that crime, was released. Alessandro testified against Johnathan in exchange for prosecutors not seeking the death penalty in his murder trials.

  Alessandro told investigators that he and Johnathan had donned their high school ROTC uniforms and gone to the temple with the borrowed .22-caliber rifle, along with a 20-gauge shotgun from Alessandro’s house. They had knocked on the door and, upon being let in, held the victims at gunpoint while robbing the temple. Then Johnathan shot each victim in the head with the .22, while Alessandro fired four rounds at the victims with the 20-gauge. Alessandro said they had killed the people in the temple because they were witnesses to the robbery.

  Johnathan told a different story. He confessed to being at the temple but didn’t confess to killing anyone. He didn’t testify at the trial at all. Both teens were sentenced to more than 270 years prison. But the case didn’t end there. Johnathan appealed his case in 2011, and his conviction was overturned. The appeals court ruled that Johnathan’s confession was invalid because investigators failed to properly read him his Miranda rights. They told Johnathan he had the right to an attorney only if he had committed the crime. Of course, all suspects have the right to an attorney, guilty or not. Johnathan was retried, with his confession no longer admissible as evidence. Alessandro’s testimony could still be considered. In January of 2014, a jury found Johnathan guilty. He had been seventeen at the time of the killings. He was now thirty-nine. Because of this case, Arizona has since changed the way it interrogates suspects.

  Ironically, the Miranda rights are named after a case against the State of Arizona. Ernesto Miranda pled guilty in 1963 to rape, kidnapping, and robbery. He appealed his case, and the US Supreme Court ruled that his confession was inadmissible because pol
ice had failed to inform him of his right to an attorney and right to remain silent. Miranda was later retried and convicted. But the stated right to an attorney has helped innocent people avoid confessing to crimes they didn’t commit.

  Forensic science such as profiling has shed light on both true and false confessions. But it isn’t perfect. In the 1990s, a new forensic science method—DNA profiling—was proven to be so reliable that it led to the exoneration of several convicted criminals and cast a shadow on the forensic evidence originally used against them. DNA evidence has been used to convict and exonerate, and it’s now changing the way forensic science methods are tested and presented in court.

  11

  One in a Trillion: The Dawn of DNA Evidence

  Long before DNA was used to solve crimes, detectives were faced with a much more basic task: determining whether blood came from a human or an animal. Today, it may be odd for a person to have animal blood on their clothing unless they’ve been hunting, cooking, or performing first aid on a pet moments before. But in those days, people owned few sets of clothing, washed them infrequently, and butchered their own animals. In short, it was a bloodier time. So a man who’d made sausage the week before might be accused of murder due to the stains on his clothing, even though he was innocent. (Of course, the hog might have thought otherwise.)

  In 1887, Sherlock Holmes fictionally invented a new test for human blood. A real-life reliable test for human blood was developed soon after, though it now seems like a process straight out of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. A rabbit was injected with human blood serum (the liquid in which red blood cells float). The rabbit blood was then sucked out with a syringe and allowed to clot in a test tube. The serum of the rabbit blood was separated out. The blood being tested was then added to the rabbit serum, and if the serum turned milky, the blood was human.