Moms of the Missing, page 19
Joan was busy not only creating a website in memory of her daughter—where she posted the words about the power DNA holds as an investigative tool—she was also busy contacting legislators in order to try to change the current law.
“We are always told by legislators that it is all about ‘the dollar’, as it is expensive, creating these databases. But how do you put a price tag on my daughter’s life?” Joan asks. She answers the question herself, saying that she cannot imagine a better way to spend taxpayers’ money than to create a safer society.
Joan explains: “Our system does not work as it should. We should have databases all over America.”
Joan started to lobby for the creation of a database in Tennessee, where DNA is registered even when a perpetrator commits a minor crime. She met with legislators numerous times. And after two years her efforts finally paid off. On May 9, 2007 the Johnia Berry Act was passed. Lawmakers in Nashville unanimously passed the act, which states that anyone arrested for a violent felony is required to give a DNA sample and that the sample must be registered in a statewide database. Today, thirty states have passed laws making it possible to register some form of DNA for felony arrests.
“DNA is the fingerprinting of our time, so all fifty states should enact laws that make it possible,” Joan says.
She believes that coordinated databases will not only help to find offenders who have committed terrible crimes such as murder, but also help to find and save children at risk of becoming murder victims.
“The more we know about criminals the easier it becomes to prevent crimes. It is not only about solving,” Joan notes. She also states that she would especially like to see Tennessee learn from other states. As an example she mentions that in Virginia offenders must serve at least 85 percent of their sentence, while in Tennessee they are eligible for parole after serving only 33 percent. As the mother of a murder victim Joan feels that the offenders should complete their entire sentence, as she believes that hard sentences will make people think before they commit crimes. As such, she is also in favour of capital punishment and will continue to fight for whatever she believes need changing.
“People say he got life, but they do not realise that the offender might be out on parole a few years later. And when we let murderers out on parole we put others’ [lives] in jeopardy. We risk that they will commit murder again; it is all a matter of money. When murderers are let out it is simply because it is expensive keeping them in prison,” Joan says.
As an activist Joan has also tried to influence how offenders are presented in court.
In 2015 Governor Bill Haslam of Tennessee signed the Victim Life Photo Bill into law, allowing murder victims to have an appropriate presence during trials. As president of the victim’s rights group Hope for Victims, Joan coordinated support for the bill.
“It seems like criminals have more rights than the victims,” Joan says. “They walk in to court dressed in beautiful clothes they probably don’t even own. Meanwhile, we only see pictures of the victims from the crime scene or the autopsy. Victims have the right to have their face shown as we remember them before the crimes, because the jury needs to see the person they were before becoming [a] victim[.] The jury needs to see the happy and good person that was murdered, and this is what the offender should be convicted for. At the same time the offender should appear as they are and not be portrayed as better people in nice suits.”
Joan feels there are too many cases where the public forgets who the real victims are— especially in death penalty cases. Not long ago, Joan was following the case of a man who was put on death row after he was convicted of raping and killing a seven-year-old girl. The media coverage upset Joan.
“When they finally put him to death it was all about him. Not the way he raped and killed the little girl and how her family will suffer forever. We have a tendency to focus on the perpetrator and not the victim. Therefore, I would never go to a [meeting] where the victim met the criminal. It would make me feel miserable, giving the criminal a chance of excusing himself and asking for forgiveness. When you commit a heinous crime you do not deserve that opportunity,” Joan states candidly.
Over the years Joan has met a lot of politicians during the course of her lobbying. But she says laws are not about politics.
“It is about doing the right thing for the people who elected and trusted you. At times I feel I am fighting a losing battle. I have a grandchild that keeps me going. I want them to feel safe, and therefore it is worth the fight,” Joan says.
She thinks that victims have more power than the general public to influence politicians because they have been impacted and affected by the crimes and therefore can share the consequences of criminal acts with them.
“People don’t realise how the system works unless the crime happens to them. And the realisation is often disappointing,” Joan says.
When asked if she would not have a more peaceful life if she left the lawmaking to others, Joan quickly replies that she cannot abandon her lobbying efforts, because someone needs to tell legislators that the justice system does not work. According to Joan, law enforcement agencies need the right laws and the right tools to make society safer, but legislators aren’t providing them with these tools.
“Johnia wanted to make a difference in this world, and therefore I try to keep her memory alive by influencing lawmakers. And this way I also keep myself busy. I miss Johnia so much that it is good having this to attend to instead of just sitting down giving up,” Joan says.
Today, Joan cries just as much as she did fourteen years ago. People often tell her she needs to move on, but Joan says there is no closure when your child is murdered. You just close one chapter to open another, she says.
“First chapter was to find the guy who killed Johnia. Next chapter was dealing with the justice system. All the time, a new chapter opens. It is so painful, and I would not wish this on my worst enemy,” Joan says.
Besides struggling day to day just to get through, Joan also feels she has to struggle with simply being considered a normal person by other people. Because people treat you differently, she says, when they do not know what to say or how to react.
“People [would] rather turn around and walk away when they see you. They do not know if they should mention Johnia or if they should only talk about her. So many just keep silent. But I love to talk about Johnia, as she will always live in my heart, and people should not worry about making me sad. I already am, and I will be sad to the day that I die, so please just speak up with what’s on your mind,” Joan says.
She says that seeing people just paying attention and listening to her story gives her strength to carry on. The worst one can do, she says, is to pretend the crime never happened, because it did, and denying Johnia’s memory means it’s not being honoured as it deserves. Therefore, Joan loves when people tell her that she is in their prayers.
“I think prayers change lives,” Joan says.
She says that believing in God and being a spiritual person has helped her through the hardest times. Often, she feels Johnia is still with her. For example, when she is driving she gets the feeling Johnia is sitting next to her. Somehow the air in the car just feels warmer. The same thing happens when Joan is alone in a room at night.
“I can feel her presence when she comes to visit. It is like she is always near. I talk a lot to her, and I often ask what she thinks about certain things. It helps, talking to her, and I thank God that I had her for more than twenty years,” Joan says.
Besides affecting Joan’s spiritual life her daughter’s death has also influenced and encouraged her in every day life. For example, until recently she was unable to attend weddings.
“I could not [go] because it would remind me that I would never see Johnia get married. I also get really mad when I think about the fact that her killer’s parents have a grandchild. I will never have Johnia’s children in my life. I think it is unfair,” Joan says, referring to the fact that Taylor Olson was a father when he committed suicide.
Joan is not angry at Taylor Olson’s family. But she is still hurt by some of their actions. When Taylor Olson committed suicide his mother gave Joan her number and invited her to call and ask any questions she had regarding her son. Joan took up the offer and tried conversing with her, but the conversation ended quickly because Taylor Olson’s mother defended her son, which caused Joan to become frustrated. She therefore hung up immediately. Because the call was not very long, Joan did not get the answers to her questions.
“I was also surprised and upset when I found out they had a remembrance page for him on Facebook,” Joan says. “I looked at it and did not feel he deserved to be remembered.”
Instead, she decided to turn the tables by honouring the victim’s memory. When police had searched Johnia’s apartment they found all the toys she had wrapped for the children. This inspired Joan and her husband, Michael, to lead an annual toy drive in their daughter’s name. For thirteen years Joan has organised the Johnia Berry Memorial Toy Drive. Every year the foundation collects and distributes thousands of toys to needy children through schools and organisations in East Tennessee and Southwest Virginia. Joan describes the charity as “a heartwarming experience” and one that she does “in honour of Johnia and her love of children.” Volunteers and sponsors at the local television station, WJHL, also dedicate their time to the cause. Every year for more than a month people and companies can drop off new, unwrapped toys for infants and children up to the age of fourteen years at Food City stores. The collection of toys always ends on the day of Johnia’s murder, the sixth of December. Afterwards Joan and volunteers deliver the toys to children in need, so they get the help, and they experience the joy, Johnia tried to provide for children during the holiday season.
“It is a beautiful way of honouring Johnia’s memory. She loved children and would be proud to see how we help them through the toy drive,” Joan says.
She also believes that her daughter’s death has brought her own family closer together. Every day she cherishes her husband, sons, and grandchildren. Joan knows how important it is to help others get through stressful situations and adapt to a new life. Three years ago Joan helped her sister when injustice struck her.
“Her son died a terrible death in a terrible accident. After losing Johnia I understood the pain she was going through. To me the most important thing is talking about the pain you feel. And even though your children pass away they are still alive in your heart, and what better way [to keep] them alive than talking about them,” Joan says.
12
A VICTIM’S STATEMENT
All states allow victim impact statements—a chance for victims to describe how a crime has affected their lives. The statements are normally included in the presentencing report that the trial judge receives.
According to the National Center for Victims of Crime, the purpose of victim impact statements is:
…to allow crime victims, during the decision-making process on sentencing or parole, to describe to the court or parole board the impact of the crime. A judge may use information from these statements to help determine an offender’s sentence; a parole board may use such information to help decide whether to grant a parole and what conditions to impose in releasing an offender. A few states allow victim impact information to be introduced at bail, pretrial release, or plea bargain hearings.
A victim impact statement may provide information about damage to victims that would otherwise have been unavailable to courts or parole boards. Victims are often not called to testify in court, and if they testify, they must respond to narrow, specific questions. Victim impact statements are often the victims’ only opportunity to participate in the criminal justice process or to confront the offenders who have harmed them. Many victims report that making such statements improves their satisfaction with the criminal justice process and helps them recover from the crime.
(Source: www.victimsofcrime.org)
Although all states allow victim impact statements, too many victims never make such a statement, and too many perpetrators never go to court, Rhonda Stapley says. In 1974 she was abducted by one of the worst serial killers America has ever witnessed: Ted Bundy.
Rhonda miraculously escaped from the notorious killer, but afterwards she was too ashamed to come forward. Today, she feels guilty about the deaths of some of the girls Ted Bundy killed after he assaulted her. Her mission is to make victims speak up.
A Victim Kept Quiet
Victim: Rhonda Stapley
Date of Birth: 08/19/1953
Missing From: Salt Lake City, Utah
Abducted: 11/10/1974 (21 years old)
Classification: Endangered Missing
Rhonda was watching the television show M*A*S*H when a news flash interrupted the sitcom. The anchor happily announced that law enforcement officers had finally got the man everyone had been talking about—and fearing. When the television station broadcast footage of the alleged abductor being brought in to the police station for questioning, Rhonda’s roommate asked: “Which of them is the bad guy?”
The footage showed three men, all of whom looked the same in their street clothes. But Rhonda knew right away who the offender was. She had looked into his eyes one year earlier, on a beautiful autumn afternoon in Salt Lake City.
The sun had been shining and the weather was warmer than normal for that time of year. Rhonda hadn’t enjoyed much of the day though. Earlier that Friday she’d had dental surgery, and her mouth had started to feel sore. The fourth-year pharmaceutical student knew she had to get back to campus quickly so she could take some aspirin, but the bus was more than half an hour late. So Rhonda decided to walk back to campus, cursing herself for putting on a new pair of hiking boots that were not yet broken in. The walk was going to be long and painful.
Just as she was about to leave the bus stop at Liberty Park, a car passed by slowly. After the car passed Rhonda, the driver stopped. He put the Volkswagen Beetle in reverse, and then he began to back up. A really good-looking guy rolled down the car window. In a calm, welcoming voice, he asked Rhonda where she was going. It turned out they were both heading to the University of Utah. The man gladly offered Rhonda a ride.
“It was a different time in the 1970s,” Rhonda notes. “Crimes were committed, but in general people felt safe, and everyone helped each other. So getting into that car didn’t seem a big risk, as it would today. It was just a friendly person offering a lift, like many friendly people did back then,” Rhonda says.
Once she had climbed into the car she reached for the handle to close the door, but to her surprise it had been removed. However, she wasn’t concerned. Instead, she focused on the driver.
The young and handsome man had curly dark hair and a friendly smile. Politely, he said he was a law student at the university…and as he shook Rhonda’s hand he introduced himself as Ted.
Rhonda immediately found the articulate man interesting, but with her strict Mormon upbringing she felt no more than that. At the age of twenty-one years, she had never set foot in a bar. She was not dating, and her worst habit was consuming Pepsi-Cola.
“His eyes were bright,” Rhonda remembers, “and I thought he was just a good-looking, kind student. We had a friendly and funny conversation, like students would have. We mainly spoke about college, and I felt comfortable. I thought he could be my next best friend.”
For a while they drove towards the university; then Ted suddenly made a turn. When Rhonda noticed they were not taking the normal route to their destination, Ted asked whether it would be okay if he just ran a quick errand up by the zoo. Rhonda didn’t mind, she was just happy that she had finally gotten a ride back home. But when they got to the zoo, Ted didn’t stop. He continued towards Big Cottonwood Canyon, and when Rhonda asked why, Ted just replied the errand wasn’t at the zoo, but near the zoo.
“Then suddenly he pulled over,” Rhonda recalls. “It seemed like he was looking for a place to park. At this point I did not expect a murder attempt, I was more anticipating an attempt at a romantic parking episode, and I wasn’t afraid of that either, just not interested, and wanting to get out of that potential situation without embarrassing either of us. I still thought he was a nice and somewhat charming guy right up to the moment,” Rhonda says.
When Ted finally found a secluded parking spot between some trees, he turned around in the driver’s seat and faced Rhonda directly. The shy girl was sure he was now going to try to kiss her, but when she looked into his eyes, she was in for a shock. The beautiful blue eyes had turned black and empty. And when Ted finally spoke again it was without affection.
“I am going to kill you,” he said.
At first Rhonda thought it was a sick kind of humour, but when he grabbed her by the throat, she started to panic. Desperately she fought for her life, but she quickly lost her breath; shortly afterwards, she lost consciousness.
When she woke up again, Ted had put her on top of a picnic table and pulled her pants down in order to rape her.
“I was just begging for my life while he was beating me badly. He was shaking and slapping my head so wildly that the stitches from my dental surgery [were] ripped open. I had blood [over] my entire face and he started slugging me in the stomach. Then he choked me again till I lost consciousness, but he kept waking me up like he was playing a game. The last time he woke me up, he said ‘Good girl! Don’t die yet!’ and then he asked how I would actually like to die?” Rhonda recounts.
First, Ted imitated how he could cut off her air supply by putting his hand over her nose and mouth. Then, he visualised how he also could strangle her. Finally, he indicated, she had a third option: She could die by him sitting so hard on her body that she would no longer be able to breathe.
“We are always told by legislators that it is all about ‘the dollar’, as it is expensive, creating these databases. But how do you put a price tag on my daughter’s life?” Joan asks. She answers the question herself, saying that she cannot imagine a better way to spend taxpayers’ money than to create a safer society.
Joan explains: “Our system does not work as it should. We should have databases all over America.”
Joan started to lobby for the creation of a database in Tennessee, where DNA is registered even when a perpetrator commits a minor crime. She met with legislators numerous times. And after two years her efforts finally paid off. On May 9, 2007 the Johnia Berry Act was passed. Lawmakers in Nashville unanimously passed the act, which states that anyone arrested for a violent felony is required to give a DNA sample and that the sample must be registered in a statewide database. Today, thirty states have passed laws making it possible to register some form of DNA for felony arrests.
“DNA is the fingerprinting of our time, so all fifty states should enact laws that make it possible,” Joan says.
She believes that coordinated databases will not only help to find offenders who have committed terrible crimes such as murder, but also help to find and save children at risk of becoming murder victims.
“The more we know about criminals the easier it becomes to prevent crimes. It is not only about solving,” Joan notes. She also states that she would especially like to see Tennessee learn from other states. As an example she mentions that in Virginia offenders must serve at least 85 percent of their sentence, while in Tennessee they are eligible for parole after serving only 33 percent. As the mother of a murder victim Joan feels that the offenders should complete their entire sentence, as she believes that hard sentences will make people think before they commit crimes. As such, she is also in favour of capital punishment and will continue to fight for whatever she believes need changing.
“People say he got life, but they do not realise that the offender might be out on parole a few years later. And when we let murderers out on parole we put others’ [lives] in jeopardy. We risk that they will commit murder again; it is all a matter of money. When murderers are let out it is simply because it is expensive keeping them in prison,” Joan says.
As an activist Joan has also tried to influence how offenders are presented in court.
In 2015 Governor Bill Haslam of Tennessee signed the Victim Life Photo Bill into law, allowing murder victims to have an appropriate presence during trials. As president of the victim’s rights group Hope for Victims, Joan coordinated support for the bill.
“It seems like criminals have more rights than the victims,” Joan says. “They walk in to court dressed in beautiful clothes they probably don’t even own. Meanwhile, we only see pictures of the victims from the crime scene or the autopsy. Victims have the right to have their face shown as we remember them before the crimes, because the jury needs to see the person they were before becoming [a] victim[.] The jury needs to see the happy and good person that was murdered, and this is what the offender should be convicted for. At the same time the offender should appear as they are and not be portrayed as better people in nice suits.”
Joan feels there are too many cases where the public forgets who the real victims are— especially in death penalty cases. Not long ago, Joan was following the case of a man who was put on death row after he was convicted of raping and killing a seven-year-old girl. The media coverage upset Joan.
“When they finally put him to death it was all about him. Not the way he raped and killed the little girl and how her family will suffer forever. We have a tendency to focus on the perpetrator and not the victim. Therefore, I would never go to a [meeting] where the victim met the criminal. It would make me feel miserable, giving the criminal a chance of excusing himself and asking for forgiveness. When you commit a heinous crime you do not deserve that opportunity,” Joan states candidly.
Over the years Joan has met a lot of politicians during the course of her lobbying. But she says laws are not about politics.
“It is about doing the right thing for the people who elected and trusted you. At times I feel I am fighting a losing battle. I have a grandchild that keeps me going. I want them to feel safe, and therefore it is worth the fight,” Joan says.
She thinks that victims have more power than the general public to influence politicians because they have been impacted and affected by the crimes and therefore can share the consequences of criminal acts with them.
“People don’t realise how the system works unless the crime happens to them. And the realisation is often disappointing,” Joan says.
When asked if she would not have a more peaceful life if she left the lawmaking to others, Joan quickly replies that she cannot abandon her lobbying efforts, because someone needs to tell legislators that the justice system does not work. According to Joan, law enforcement agencies need the right laws and the right tools to make society safer, but legislators aren’t providing them with these tools.
“Johnia wanted to make a difference in this world, and therefore I try to keep her memory alive by influencing lawmakers. And this way I also keep myself busy. I miss Johnia so much that it is good having this to attend to instead of just sitting down giving up,” Joan says.
Today, Joan cries just as much as she did fourteen years ago. People often tell her she needs to move on, but Joan says there is no closure when your child is murdered. You just close one chapter to open another, she says.
“First chapter was to find the guy who killed Johnia. Next chapter was dealing with the justice system. All the time, a new chapter opens. It is so painful, and I would not wish this on my worst enemy,” Joan says.
Besides struggling day to day just to get through, Joan also feels she has to struggle with simply being considered a normal person by other people. Because people treat you differently, she says, when they do not know what to say or how to react.
“People [would] rather turn around and walk away when they see you. They do not know if they should mention Johnia or if they should only talk about her. So many just keep silent. But I love to talk about Johnia, as she will always live in my heart, and people should not worry about making me sad. I already am, and I will be sad to the day that I die, so please just speak up with what’s on your mind,” Joan says.
She says that seeing people just paying attention and listening to her story gives her strength to carry on. The worst one can do, she says, is to pretend the crime never happened, because it did, and denying Johnia’s memory means it’s not being honoured as it deserves. Therefore, Joan loves when people tell her that she is in their prayers.
“I think prayers change lives,” Joan says.
She says that believing in God and being a spiritual person has helped her through the hardest times. Often, she feels Johnia is still with her. For example, when she is driving she gets the feeling Johnia is sitting next to her. Somehow the air in the car just feels warmer. The same thing happens when Joan is alone in a room at night.
“I can feel her presence when she comes to visit. It is like she is always near. I talk a lot to her, and I often ask what she thinks about certain things. It helps, talking to her, and I thank God that I had her for more than twenty years,” Joan says.
Besides affecting Joan’s spiritual life her daughter’s death has also influenced and encouraged her in every day life. For example, until recently she was unable to attend weddings.
“I could not [go] because it would remind me that I would never see Johnia get married. I also get really mad when I think about the fact that her killer’s parents have a grandchild. I will never have Johnia’s children in my life. I think it is unfair,” Joan says, referring to the fact that Taylor Olson was a father when he committed suicide.
Joan is not angry at Taylor Olson’s family. But she is still hurt by some of their actions. When Taylor Olson committed suicide his mother gave Joan her number and invited her to call and ask any questions she had regarding her son. Joan took up the offer and tried conversing with her, but the conversation ended quickly because Taylor Olson’s mother defended her son, which caused Joan to become frustrated. She therefore hung up immediately. Because the call was not very long, Joan did not get the answers to her questions.
“I was also surprised and upset when I found out they had a remembrance page for him on Facebook,” Joan says. “I looked at it and did not feel he deserved to be remembered.”
Instead, she decided to turn the tables by honouring the victim’s memory. When police had searched Johnia’s apartment they found all the toys she had wrapped for the children. This inspired Joan and her husband, Michael, to lead an annual toy drive in their daughter’s name. For thirteen years Joan has organised the Johnia Berry Memorial Toy Drive. Every year the foundation collects and distributes thousands of toys to needy children through schools and organisations in East Tennessee and Southwest Virginia. Joan describes the charity as “a heartwarming experience” and one that she does “in honour of Johnia and her love of children.” Volunteers and sponsors at the local television station, WJHL, also dedicate their time to the cause. Every year for more than a month people and companies can drop off new, unwrapped toys for infants and children up to the age of fourteen years at Food City stores. The collection of toys always ends on the day of Johnia’s murder, the sixth of December. Afterwards Joan and volunteers deliver the toys to children in need, so they get the help, and they experience the joy, Johnia tried to provide for children during the holiday season.
“It is a beautiful way of honouring Johnia’s memory. She loved children and would be proud to see how we help them through the toy drive,” Joan says.
She also believes that her daughter’s death has brought her own family closer together. Every day she cherishes her husband, sons, and grandchildren. Joan knows how important it is to help others get through stressful situations and adapt to a new life. Three years ago Joan helped her sister when injustice struck her.
“Her son died a terrible death in a terrible accident. After losing Johnia I understood the pain she was going through. To me the most important thing is talking about the pain you feel. And even though your children pass away they are still alive in your heart, and what better way [to keep] them alive than talking about them,” Joan says.
12
A VICTIM’S STATEMENT
All states allow victim impact statements—a chance for victims to describe how a crime has affected their lives. The statements are normally included in the presentencing report that the trial judge receives.
According to the National Center for Victims of Crime, the purpose of victim impact statements is:
…to allow crime victims, during the decision-making process on sentencing or parole, to describe to the court or parole board the impact of the crime. A judge may use information from these statements to help determine an offender’s sentence; a parole board may use such information to help decide whether to grant a parole and what conditions to impose in releasing an offender. A few states allow victim impact information to be introduced at bail, pretrial release, or plea bargain hearings.
A victim impact statement may provide information about damage to victims that would otherwise have been unavailable to courts or parole boards. Victims are often not called to testify in court, and if they testify, they must respond to narrow, specific questions. Victim impact statements are often the victims’ only opportunity to participate in the criminal justice process or to confront the offenders who have harmed them. Many victims report that making such statements improves their satisfaction with the criminal justice process and helps them recover from the crime.
(Source: www.victimsofcrime.org)
Although all states allow victim impact statements, too many victims never make such a statement, and too many perpetrators never go to court, Rhonda Stapley says. In 1974 she was abducted by one of the worst serial killers America has ever witnessed: Ted Bundy.
Rhonda miraculously escaped from the notorious killer, but afterwards she was too ashamed to come forward. Today, she feels guilty about the deaths of some of the girls Ted Bundy killed after he assaulted her. Her mission is to make victims speak up.
A Victim Kept Quiet
Victim: Rhonda Stapley
Date of Birth: 08/19/1953
Missing From: Salt Lake City, Utah
Abducted: 11/10/1974 (21 years old)
Classification: Endangered Missing
Rhonda was watching the television show M*A*S*H when a news flash interrupted the sitcom. The anchor happily announced that law enforcement officers had finally got the man everyone had been talking about—and fearing. When the television station broadcast footage of the alleged abductor being brought in to the police station for questioning, Rhonda’s roommate asked: “Which of them is the bad guy?”
The footage showed three men, all of whom looked the same in their street clothes. But Rhonda knew right away who the offender was. She had looked into his eyes one year earlier, on a beautiful autumn afternoon in Salt Lake City.
The sun had been shining and the weather was warmer than normal for that time of year. Rhonda hadn’t enjoyed much of the day though. Earlier that Friday she’d had dental surgery, and her mouth had started to feel sore. The fourth-year pharmaceutical student knew she had to get back to campus quickly so she could take some aspirin, but the bus was more than half an hour late. So Rhonda decided to walk back to campus, cursing herself for putting on a new pair of hiking boots that were not yet broken in. The walk was going to be long and painful.
Just as she was about to leave the bus stop at Liberty Park, a car passed by slowly. After the car passed Rhonda, the driver stopped. He put the Volkswagen Beetle in reverse, and then he began to back up. A really good-looking guy rolled down the car window. In a calm, welcoming voice, he asked Rhonda where she was going. It turned out they were both heading to the University of Utah. The man gladly offered Rhonda a ride.
“It was a different time in the 1970s,” Rhonda notes. “Crimes were committed, but in general people felt safe, and everyone helped each other. So getting into that car didn’t seem a big risk, as it would today. It was just a friendly person offering a lift, like many friendly people did back then,” Rhonda says.
Once she had climbed into the car she reached for the handle to close the door, but to her surprise it had been removed. However, she wasn’t concerned. Instead, she focused on the driver.
The young and handsome man had curly dark hair and a friendly smile. Politely, he said he was a law student at the university…and as he shook Rhonda’s hand he introduced himself as Ted.
Rhonda immediately found the articulate man interesting, but with her strict Mormon upbringing she felt no more than that. At the age of twenty-one years, she had never set foot in a bar. She was not dating, and her worst habit was consuming Pepsi-Cola.
“His eyes were bright,” Rhonda remembers, “and I thought he was just a good-looking, kind student. We had a friendly and funny conversation, like students would have. We mainly spoke about college, and I felt comfortable. I thought he could be my next best friend.”
For a while they drove towards the university; then Ted suddenly made a turn. When Rhonda noticed they were not taking the normal route to their destination, Ted asked whether it would be okay if he just ran a quick errand up by the zoo. Rhonda didn’t mind, she was just happy that she had finally gotten a ride back home. But when they got to the zoo, Ted didn’t stop. He continued towards Big Cottonwood Canyon, and when Rhonda asked why, Ted just replied the errand wasn’t at the zoo, but near the zoo.
“Then suddenly he pulled over,” Rhonda recalls. “It seemed like he was looking for a place to park. At this point I did not expect a murder attempt, I was more anticipating an attempt at a romantic parking episode, and I wasn’t afraid of that either, just not interested, and wanting to get out of that potential situation without embarrassing either of us. I still thought he was a nice and somewhat charming guy right up to the moment,” Rhonda says.
When Ted finally found a secluded parking spot between some trees, he turned around in the driver’s seat and faced Rhonda directly. The shy girl was sure he was now going to try to kiss her, but when she looked into his eyes, she was in for a shock. The beautiful blue eyes had turned black and empty. And when Ted finally spoke again it was without affection.
“I am going to kill you,” he said.
At first Rhonda thought it was a sick kind of humour, but when he grabbed her by the throat, she started to panic. Desperately she fought for her life, but she quickly lost her breath; shortly afterwards, she lost consciousness.
When she woke up again, Ted had put her on top of a picnic table and pulled her pants down in order to rape her.
“I was just begging for my life while he was beating me badly. He was shaking and slapping my head so wildly that the stitches from my dental surgery [were] ripped open. I had blood [over] my entire face and he started slugging me in the stomach. Then he choked me again till I lost consciousness, but he kept waking me up like he was playing a game. The last time he woke me up, he said ‘Good girl! Don’t die yet!’ and then he asked how I would actually like to die?” Rhonda recounts.
First, Ted imitated how he could cut off her air supply by putting his hand over her nose and mouth. Then, he visualised how he also could strangle her. Finally, he indicated, she had a third option: She could die by him sitting so hard on her body that she would no longer be able to breathe.
