The Bundy Murders: A Comprehensive History (11 page)

Louise's sisters remember troubling actions from time to time from the young Bundy. One of his aunts spoke of how she had once been awakened to find her three-year-old nephew busy placing kitchen knives under her covers and around her body. He said nothing to her, but continued standing there with a dazed look on his face, she said.

He would also have periods, even as a child, where he'd seem to suddenly morph into this other, very strange being. One moment he would be fine, the next, he would become somebody else. "Ted had had episodes where he would seem to turn into another, unrecognizable, person. A great-aunt who had witnessed one such episode suddenly, inexplicably, found herself afraid of her favorite nephew as they waited together at a dusk-darkened train station."' Even at a young age, the cracks in his personality were already visible.

In an odd turn of events, on October 6, 1949, his last name was changed from Cowell to Nelson in a Philadelphia courthouse. For many years, the reason for this was unknown, as there wasn't any record of marriage for Louise Cowell and a Mr. Nelson, or for any man, for that matter. Later, however, Louise would admit to an investigator the true reason behind the name change. When, in 1951, she made the decision to head west to Brown's Point, near Tacoma, Washington, to live with her Uncle Jack Cowell, she didn't want her young son subjected to ridicule because he shared the same last name as his great-uncle and his mother. It made sense, yet it was but one more strange happening in his life. Still, he would grow quite close to Cowell, "an accomplished composer and pianist" and music professor at Puget Sound College, later to be renamed the University of Puget Sound. Reflecting on this move years later, Bundy remarked, "Life was not as sweet [as it was in Philadelphia], but not a nightmare."'

That same year Louise was introduced to another veteran, John Bundy, a cook at Madigan Hospital at Fort Lewis, Washington, and the two quickly fell in love and married later that year. John Bundy, originally from North Carolina and better known as Johnnie to family and friends, adopted young Theodore Nelson and for the second and last time his name was legally changed. Soon after this, the Bundy family moved out of the city to a more rural setting, but this proved to be but a temporary exile from life in subur bia. When they returned to Tacoma in time for their young son to begin kindergarten, they settled into a roomy house in an Italian-Catholic neighborhood. Just to be back in Tacoma was a step up from country life, as far as he was concerned. There would be yet one more move. When he was in the second grade, the family purchased a home on Skyline Drive on Tacoma's west side, only a stone's throw from the famous Narrows Bridge which stretches across the waters of Puget Sound. This would remain Bundy's home through his high school graduation.

There would be additions to this family of three as well. A daughter, Linda, was the first to be born of this new union in 1952, with Glenn following closely behind in 1954. Sandra came along in 1956, and Richard, their last, entered the world in 1961. While professing love for everyone in his family, Bundy would admit years later his special closeness to his mother and to Richard. Being quite a bit older, Bundy once said that he "feels sort of a paternal relationship" to his youngest brother.'

He would confess to loving his stepfather as well, yet his relationship with Johnnie would be anything but idyllic. It wouldn't take him very long to figure out that his stepdad was not the most cerebral man, and, according to Terry Storwick, a good friend of Bundy's since childhood, Bundy would often spar verbally with Johnnie and quickly get the best of him.' Storwick witnessed Johnnie taking a swing at Bundy one day because of these verbal assaults. This reaction, Storwick believed, was Johnnie's only recourse to Bundy's intellectual attacks.

Years later, Bundy would reveal that much of the discipline in the home was handled by Johnnie, who exercised what he referred to as "the force of authority," which was used to "implement controls on Ted." This report continued: "[Ted] stated that his mother frequently was a mediator between John Bundy and Ted and [he] sought to arbitrate concessions in the home from his mother by pitting the father and the mother against on [sic] another. The frequency of such encounters, however, is not known, but was admitted to by Ted."'

Whatever problems the two had only increased when Bundy discovered the truth concerning his illegitimate birth. There are two different scenarios circulating concerning this discovery. One has Bundy finding out through his cousin John, who apparently had been throwing it in his face. When he didn't believe him, John, apparently knowing right where his birth certificate was, retrieved it, and so won his argument. This humiliating incident created a deep-seated bitterness which continued to fester and grow in the young man's mind. Storwick would later witness this bitterness in his friend, and found that nothing he said could either comfort or reassure him when it came to his birth. Bundy was bitter beyond reason, and there was no denying it.

The other story is that he discovered the truth himself when he was rum maging through some old papers. His eyes immediately glanced down the birth certificate to the heading "father," and read the word "unknown." But instead of showing a marked hostility, he made a choice, he said, to see this as "an opportunity to make a decision about who I was."6 Trying to place things in a positive light, Bundy began adding up all that was good in his life: how much his mother loved and took care of him, and the care and love he received from his extended family, grandparents, aunts and uncles, and so forth. This was both natural and healthy for him, but it was not enough.

The festering continued.

It is important to note here the degree to which Bundy was affected when his real father abandoned him. The following is taken directly from his 1976 pre-sentence investigation report: "It is of interest that the defendant displayed marked signs of hostility when asked about his early childhood. Specifically, when he was asked about his `real father's whereabouts,' his face became quite contorted and reddened and he paused momentarily. He then gained composure and replied rather succinctly and [said] approximately: `You might say that he left my mother and me and never rejoined the family.' "7

That his face became contorted speaks of a significant rage residing within. His inability to hide such an emotion was no doubt troubling to him, but the interviewer, quite accidentally, had pressed the right button, and there was just no way for him to hold it all inside any longer. The "monster" had been revealed, and like a genie escaping from a bottle, it was all Bundy could do to quickly rein him in.

Bundy's years in the public school system of Tacoma appear, for the most part, uneventful. It has been alleged by some that during his years at Hunt Junior High, he would sometimes masturbate in the broom closet within his classroom. When some of the other boys got wind of this, they apparently waited to catch him in the act, and did so on several occasions. The penalty for Bundy was having cups of cold water tossed on him after the door was thrown open, followed by unrelenting teasing. When asked about this, Bundy denied such a thing ever happened. He did, however, refer to his fourth grade teacher as a "voluptuous disciplinarian."' Apparently, sex was on his mind even at this tender age.

It was also in the fourth grade that Bundy attempted to enter the "inner circle" through reading participation, "but his ability level was not such to place him there." This too brought a degree of humiliation to an already troubled young boy.'

By the time Bundy entered Wilson High School he was considered to be the quintessential loner. He still had the close friendships of Terry Storwick and Warren Dodge (Bundy and Warren were born on the same day; Warren twenty minutes earlier), but making new friends would only become more difficult for Bundy, who was feeling increasingly out of place in society. The turmoil swirling within him would only multiply during these formative years, and instead of being able to adapt to and grow through all the changes encountered in adolescence, he would later speak of feeling left behind. At some point, his emotional growth simply stopped. It would have been better for him and society at large - especially the female segment of society - if he'd sought professional help; but we're speaking of a sociopath in the making, and that's not what sociopaths do, as a rule. Later, he would convey to others just how lost he felt during this period in his life."

When it came to women, they always found him attractive, even in high school. But it was well known that he didn't date (some have estimated he had but one date during these years), leaving some hopeful female observers to wonder whether he had a girlfriend outside of Wilson High. Indeed, this appeal to females would only grow as he entered adulthood. Once Bundy opened his mouth and began to speak, he only increased his chances with the opposite sex because he was both articulate and charming. In fact, Ted Bundy was generally likeable. Yet Bundy could never see himself this way. The fracture in his personality would never allow him to see himself as good-looking, or charming, or desired by women. Such things just couldn't be. They could be true about others, he reasoned, but never about him.

The festering continued.

Other incidents would chip away at his confidence. While in junior high, he ran for student body vice president and lost. He apparently assisted others in high school in their bids for elective office, but did not attempt another run himself. With an athletic build and a background and love for skiing during the wintertime, Bundy naturally sought relief in sports. He was apparently very good at track, taking third once in the hurdles, and played football for a time as well. He failed, however, to make the basketball team, as he was considered "too small.""

During his high school years he was, like most other boys, periodically employed in the usual endeavors for kids their age. At one point, he had a paper route, delivering The Tacoma News Tribune. He also cut yards with three other boys, a venture Bundy later referred to as having a "lawn cutting company."" Although he would grow up to become known as America's premier serial killer, he was also a petty thief from a very young age. Living in a family where money was often tight, Bundy would learn to steal what he needed, including much of the ski equipment he used on his frequent weekend excursions. It is interesting to note what one evaluator had to say concerning his felonious activities during this time: "Ted indicated that although he did not do may [sic] things of a social nature with friends, he was consistently involved with a skiing group who went to the resorts on weekends. They put together a `forgery ring' where they made their own tickets. This was done by bleaching the letters off the old tickets and through using a rubber stamp and different colored stamp pads, they could recreate new tickets. Ted said he saved a lot of money this way. 1113

Theodore Bundy graduated from Wilson High School in 1965. In the fall of that year, he would, like some of his peers at Wilson, enroll at the University of Puget Sound, but he did not declare a major. During this period he continued living at home. He felt the need to bond with a female, apparently in a normal fashion (or at least as close to normal as he could possibly muster), but as he would later reveal to a psychologist, he "had a longing for a beautiful coed [but] didn't have the skill or social acumen to cope with it.""

That "skill" or "social acumen" would never really come to him. He would, however, become very skilled at wearing what is best described by Dr. Hervey M. Cleckley as a mask of sanity" a condition prevalent in psychopaths, both violent and non-violent. The sociopath (today's version of the psychopath), does not have a conscience, and so does not react to situations in the same way as those who do possess a conscience. The guilt, shame, or remorse felt by the majority of humans when they have done something wrong is simply never a part of their lives. They can't relate to such baggage; to the sociopath, to be concerned about such things is pure foolishness, laughable, and a complete waste of time. This is why sociopaths in professions which (for the most part) require them to lie to their customers on a daily basis tend to be very successful. They may never commit murder, but they'll never lose a wink of sleep over defrauding people. If you can say anything you want, and do anything you want, without any internal controls being placed upon you, every day becomes a no-holds-barred kind of adventure. Everything is yours for the taking. If you happen to leave a pile of bodies in your wake (metaphorically speaking) as you scramble to the top, you'll be relatively unnoticed by others in our society. Many of those who do notice you may not like you, but that doesn't bother you.

But with murder, the very worst expression of the sociopath, total concealment is everything. Without that, the entire house will come tumbling down, perhaps bringing an end forever to the very thing in life that is most worthwhile to such a person: the ability to kill another human being. The sociopath in such a state of being understands what the acceptable moral standards of a civilized society are. He just doesn't accept them for himself. And so an appropriate mask must be created - an outward life, which isn't really a life at all, yet is one people can see, be around, get to know, and be comfortable with, because, for the deceived, that is the genuine person. They could never believe that what was standing before them was actually a mirage. For the sociopath who lives and draws his strength from what's going on inside, it is important to perform like an actor on stage, creating a fictional outer life. Detection of such people is often difficult. When they are appre hended, many of those considered friends or family will run to their aid, naturally believing that their son, or brother, or father, or friend is innocent. They believe they are well acquainted with the person, when, in fact, they are only acquainted with the mask. The subsequent shock for these individuals is almost too much to bear. Indeed, some will refuse to believe any of the wild allegations against their loved one unless they hear it from the killer himself.