Body Hunter (16 page)

“Danny's purpose may have been for Faryion Wardrip to get caught,” Hooker said, trying to find a reason for her son's persecution and untimely death.

 

 

Heartsick, George and Diana Wardrip faced the fact that their oldest son was guilty of not one, but five vicious murders. The headline of their Olney weekly newspaper read
SUSPECT IN MURDERS ARRESTED
, with a two-by-four-inch, red-etched box declaring in bold red headlines
FLASH: HE CONFESSES
.

The ailing older Wardrip and his wife refused any further interviews. They sought seclusion in their small apartment, eventually fleeing to Florida and the temporary refuge of their daughter's home.

Faryion Wardrip was on his own. If he was to defend himself against four counts of capital murder, he would have to rely on the public defender's office for help. George Wardrip's belief in his son was gone, destroyed by lies and half-truths.

 

 

Assistant District Attorney Jerry Taylor worked closely with investigators Little and Smith from the beginning of the inquiry into the murders of Sims and Gibbs. As pleased as he was that their own cases against Wardrip were rapidly developing, it was with great pleasure that he called the Fort Worth Police Department.

“We've got your guy,” Taylor told FWPD detectives. The same words Wichita Falls authorities had heard from Galveston police fifteen years earlier.

The day after Wardrip's confession, Sergeant Dave Loftis, an investigator assigned to the Debra Taylor murder in 1985, and Lieutenant Mark Krey, a supervisor with the Fort Worth Police Department's Violent Crimes Unit, made the trip to Wichita Falls to talk with Wardrip and possibly clear the cold case file.

Like Wichita Falls, Fort Worth had experienced a rash of female homicides in a nine-month period that started in September 1984. Ten of the unsolved murders were around the time Wardrip claimed to have killed Debra Taylor.

Although the term “serial killer” was not widely used at the time, Wardrip fit the standard FBI definition of a killer who hunts human beings for the sexual thrill it gives him and who will do it over and over again, believing he can outsmart the police and never expecting to be caught. It was believed Faryion Wardrip was one such body hunter.

Fort Worth and Wichita County authorities alike were concerned that there was a gap of time between the killing of Ellen Blau and Tina Kimbrew. Time that could have been filled by more killings, more bodies.

Wardrip talked with Loftis and Krey matter-of-factly about the night he killed Debra Taylor. He told them about going to the bar, meeting Taylor, dancing, and making a sexual advance in the parking lot.

“She rejected him, slapped him,” Krey later reported. “He has a very volatile temper that sets him off.... He ended up strangling her.”

For the time being, Loftis and Krey were pleased that information derived from Wardrip gave them enough to charge Wardrip with Taylor's murder. Although they were unable to link Wardrip with any of the other unsolved murders in their area, it was a break Fort Worth law officials never anticipated.

“I was surprised that somebody would come forward in this type of circumstance. It's not common to come forward and give voluntary statements,” Lieutenant Krey said. “Hopefully, it will give Taylor's family some sense of peace.”

In fact, it had been bittersweet news for Ken Taylor. Relief and shock flooded over him. For fourteen years, he had lived knowing Debra's family blamed him for her murder. He was finally absolved, but the price he had paid for Wardrip's years of silence had been too great.

 

 

On February 17, 1999, four days after his arrest, Faryion Wardrip faced the Wichita County grand jury. District Attorney Barry Macha presented the evidence against Wardrip, which included fingerprint comparisons, DNA testing, and Wardrip's own oral confession.

The jury returned two indictments. One for the murder of Terry Sims, the other for Toni Gibbs. Faryion Wardrip was bound over for trial and Public Defender John Curry was appointed as his counsel. The process of filing briefs with the court and preparing a defense began.

For nine months, Wardrip languished in the Wichita County Jail awaiting trial. Visits from his wife lifted his spirits momentarily, but he was plunged into the depths of depression each time she left.

Initially, Wardrip took Prozac, hoping it would help control the crying and intense feeling of despondency, but he decided the antidepressant drug was not helping, so he stopped taking it. “I put my faith in Him,” Wardrip said, referring to God and His healing powers.

Reverend Scott Clark helped Wardrip stay connected to his faith by visiting him weekly at the Wichita County Jail.

Wardrip had to rely on God
and
John Curry in preparing for his murder trial. The state had already announced they intended to seek the death penalty.

The indictment of Faryion Wardrip for the 1980s murders of Terry Sims, Toni Gibbs, and Ellen Blau became the talk of the town in local coffee shops, beauty salons, radio broadcasts, and on the nightly television news in Wichita Falls. The defense was convinced the court would be hard-pressed to find a prospective juror who hadn't heard of Faryion Wardrip and the brutal rapes and murders of the young North Texas women.

Carroll Wilson, editor for the
Times-Record News,
reminded everyone in his February 19, 1999, editorial that anyone accused of a crime in Texas is assumed innocent until proven guilty, even if the accused hands over a confession. Wilson reminded his readers that until a judge or jury determined Wardrip guilty, he must be presumed innocent.

“Working under the assumption that the public does not yet have all the details of the cases being developed both by the prosecutors and the defense counsel, and acknowledging that the law-enforcement agencies working on these cases have been wrong in the past, we might be premature in offering congratulations to the agents and agencies involved,” Wilson wrote.

The editor went on to applaud the teamwork of 97th District Attorney Tim Cole, who pursued DNA testing; John Little, investigator for Wichita County District Attorney Barry Macha; Paul Smith, investigator in Cole's office; and District Attorney Barry Macha, who worked hand in hand with Cole.

Wilson ended his editorial with “Now, let justice be done.”

Certain that his client couldn't get the justice Wilson wrote about in Wichita Falls, John Curry petitioned Judge Bob Brotherton of the 30th District Court for a change of venue. As a practicing attorney, Brotherton had represented Danny Laughlin in his plea bargain with the state on perjury charges and had represented Johnna Wardrip during her divorce from Faryion fifteen years earlier. Now that he was a presiding judge, Brotherton was slated to officiate the capital murder trial of Faryion Wardrip. The district judge agreed with Curry and ruled that the trial be held in Denton, Texas, about one hundred miles southeast of Wichita Falls.

Much preparation was necessary before the trial could take place. The move to Denton meant that Wardrip would have to be housed in the Denton County Jail and that prosecutors, defense attorneys, and court personnel would have to lodge in a Denton hotel.

Denton, about thirty miles from both Dallas and Fort Worth, was part of the North Texas region known as “the Golden Triangle.” Ranked as one of the fastest-growing counties in the country, Denton's population had spiraled from seventy-five thousand in 1970 to over two hundred thousand in 1990. Alliance Airport and Texas Motor Speedway, one of the largest sports and entertainment facilities in the world, had helped the southern portion of the county prosper, while the northern region remained centered on horse ranches and farming. The University of North Texas and Texas Woman's University made the city a major center for higher education.

Wardrip's trial would be held in the two-year-old Denton County courthouse. Unlike the historical Wichita County courthouse, the Denton courthouse was ultra modern with concrete walls, chrome banisters, and glass partitions. The up-to-date building replaced the 1896 brick courthouse built in the center of the town square, which had been transformed into the Denton County museum.

The court staff was happy to be headed for a building with the latest in courtroom innovations, including a separate viewing room for the media. It was a far cry from the days of Denton's meager beginnings of the early 1900s, when court was held under a large oak tree.

Judge Brotherton scheduled the capital murder trial of Faryion Wardrip to begin October 4, 1999, nearly nine months after the accused killer's capture.

 

 

As Faryion Wardrip waited in the Wichita County Jail for his day in court, investigators continued to build their case against him.

After several weeks of careful analysis by the Department of Public Service lab in Austin, it was determined that the second set of fingerprints taken from Wardrip after his arrest matched the print taken from the shoe of Terry Sims.

“It wasn't a standard print you would get when you're printed in jail,” Little explained. The print on the shoe was of a lower finger joint or partial palm print. Little claimed that was why the print taken from Sims's shoe was never compared to Wardrip's fingerprints from his 1986 conviction for the murder of Tina Kimbrew.

The news of a serial killer's apprehension in Wichita Falls set off a flurry of calls from police agencies from across Texas. Little was bombarded from officers who wanted to find out if Wardrip could be tied to any of their cold cases.

“You should look through your cases for any DNA evidence and send it to Gene Screen,” Little told them.

As other agencies contacted Wichita Falls authorities, Fort Worth continued to investigate their own nine unsolved female homicides, utilizing their city's crime lab for possible matches to Wardrip.

While Little fielded inquiries about Wardrip and his possible link to other murders across the state, Wardrip's public defender was petitioning the court to have his client's confession ruled inadmissible.

In a hearing held August 27, 1999, John Curry asked detention officer Paul Martinez about the day he escorted Wardrip back to his jail cell on February 16, three days after his arrest in connection with the slaying of Terry Sims.

“He wanted to talk to the DA guy, John, ‘before I change my mind. Tell him to hurry before I change my mind,' ” Martinez told the court.

Curry then asked John Little about Wardrip's demeanor during their conversation and if Wardrip appeared to have been under the influence of any drugs.

“He seemed upset, but didn't seem to be under the influence of medication or lack of medication,” Little said.

Little further explained that after eating his lunch and getting an insulin shot for his diabetes, Wardrip drove with Little and Smith to the locations of Sims's and Gibbs's murders.

“He offered to show us where each of the murders had occurred,” Little testified.

Nine relatives of three of Wardrip's victims sat silently in the courtroom as Little recalled the day Wardrip had taken them to the murder sites. Debra Taylor's daughter clung tightly to her husband's hand. Terry Sims's two sisters wiped tears from their eyes. Tina Kimbrew's father, mother, and a close friend sat stone-faced, staring at the killer. Marsha Bridgens, Terry Sims's mother, a tattoo on her right shoulder that read
IN LOVING MEMORY OF TERRY
, rocked gently in her seat.

The relatives of the victims were relieved and Curry was not surprised when Judge Brotherton ruled the confession admissible.

“They seemed to have done what the law required them to do,” Curry said. Although he accepted the ruling, Curry knew that the video and audio tapes of Faryion Wardrip confessing to killing four women in the mid-1980s would have a devastating impact on the jury, and his client.

Chapter Twenty

On the morning of October 4, 1999, Wichita County Sheriff's deputies transported Faryion Wardrip from the Denton County Jail to the Denton courthouse for the first day of jury selection. Wardrip walked briskly into the courtroom, clad in a light blue, button-down-collar shirt and Dockers. He sported a short haircut, with a touch of gray at the temples. He was clean shaven. For the first time in his various court appearances, Wardrip wore glasses. Except for the white plastic identification band on his left wrist, Wardrip more closely resembled the Sunday school teacher from Olney than the accused Wichita Falls killer. He appeared healthy, rested, and ready for the first day of what would be a long process of jury selection.

Wardrip took his place behind the defense table, his public defender sitting at the opposite end. John Curry was a large man. He rested with his arms folded over his massive stomach, his body pouring over each side of his blue upholstered chair. The young, dark-haired attorney, who could be heard breathing heavily from the back of the courtroom, didn't speak to his client. Curry and Wardrip waited in silence for Judge Brotherton to enter the courtroom and begin the proceedings.

Judge Brotherton had opted not to conduct jury selection in his formal black robe, but in the more casual attire of tan jacket, white shirt, and brown tie.

The judge took his place behind the bench in a cordovan chair embossed with a gold seal of the state of Texas. On the wall above his head, a gold star with a black background was encircled with a gold ring. Leslie Ryan-Hash, Brotherton's court reporter, was seated below him and to his right.

Seven hundred and fifty potential jurors were originally called for the Wardrip trial. District Attorney Barry Macha estimated that it would take about four weeks to choose a jury of twelve.

There were about seventy exemptions that could have been claimed by potential jurors, including stay-at-home parents caring for children under the age of ten, and full-time students. Several jury candidates took advantage of some of the exclusions. Two were excused because they said they had formed an opinion of the case, and two women were eight months pregnant. The process of eliminating those who could not serve, for one reason or another, took most of the first week of Wardrip's scheduled trial.

Week two began with a scaled-down jury pool of three hundred. These were interviewed as possible panel members. Once the potential jury pool reached fifty, prosecutors and public defenders then exercised their fifteen preemptive strikes. The remaining panelists would make up the jury seated to hear Wardrip's case.

On Monday, October 11, 1999, Wardrip was upbeat, smiling and laughing with deputies who sat close behind him in the courtroom. The unarmed officers could easily be identified as Wichita County Sheriff's deputies by the black jeans, large silver belt buckles, and tan shirts with neat stitching spelling out
WICHITA COUNTY
on the left breast and
SHERIFF'S OFFICE
on the sleeve.

The courtroom was nearly empty. Curiosity seekers and victims' families seldom attended the tedious process of jury selection, except for Elaine Kimbrew Thornhill. The attractive, dark-haired mother of Tina Kimbrew sat in the empty jury box waiting for potential jurors to be questioned. She occasionally glared at Faryion Wardrip, trying to catch his eye. She wanted him to be aware of her presence. While Wardrip's pending trial was for the murder of Terry Sims, Elaine felt like it was Tina's trial, too. The trial she never got. Elaine sought closure.

Wardrip's demeanor changed to serious concentration as John Wyatt, a retired heating-and-air-conditioning technician with graying hair and metal-rimmed glasses, approached the witness stand. The first of many potential jurors, Wyatt was prepared to answer questions posed by the prosecution and the defense.

District Attorney Barry Macha approached Wyatt, a warm smile on his face.

“Have you ever served on a jury, Mr. Wyatt?” Macha asked.

“Yes. I served on a DWI case seven years prior,” Wyatt replied.

Macha took a chair and placed it about twelve feet in front of the witness box. He casually sat as he explained what constituted the death penalty in Texas. He carefully noted that a capital offense was the murder of a public safety officer, fireman, or correctional employee; murder during the commission of a specified felony (kidnapping, burglary, robbery, aggravated rape, arson); murder for payment; multiple murders; murder during prison escape; murder by a state prison inmate; and murder of a child under the age of six, or murder of a person over the age of sixty-five.

“How do you feel about the death penalty, Mr. Wyatt?” Macha asked, leaning forward in his chair.

“I've seen some cases that seem are right for the death penalty, but I've seen some that don't. I'm not for it or against it,” Wyatt answered.

All eyes in the courtroom were fixed on Wyatt, judging his response. All but the defense attorney's, who avoided looking at the possible panelist.

Macha stood and walked to the prosecution table. He took a large white chart with black lettering and set it on an easel. Pointing to the chart the DA read the numbered list. “One, can vote for the death penalty. Two, against the death penalty. Three, philosophically opposed to the death penalty, but could serve with others who do believe in it.”

Macha turned and faced Wyatt. “What category do you put yourself in, Mr. Wyatt?”

“Number one,” Wyatt answered.

Macha continued the jury interview by describing the two phases of the upcoming trial—guilt or innocence, and penalty. He then placed a second chart on the brown wooden easel to help him in defining the term “intentionally.” The DA explained that intent was a state of mind wherein the person knows and desires the consequences of his act. Wyatt pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose, leaned forward as if to read the chart, then nodded to indicate he understood.

Macha, careful not to intimidate the jury prospect, pushed back his light brown jacket and slid his right hand casually into the pocket of his dark brown trousers in a nonchalant manner as he approached Wyatt.

“Mr. Wardrip is assumed innocent today,” Macha said. Then he read the indictment of Faryion Wardrip for the murder of Terry Sims.

As Macha's two assistant district attorneys sat at the prosecution table talking to each other, Macha moved closer to the witness box.

“The burden of proof is on the State,” Macha said. “A burden of proof beyond a reasonable doubt.”

Macha clarified that reasonable doubt referred to the degree of certainty required of a juror before he could make a legally valid determination of the guilt of a defendant. That innocence was to be presumed unless the jury could see no reasonable doubt of the guilt of Faryion Wardrip. Macha said the term did not require that proof be so clear that no possibility of error existed; it meant that the evidence had to be so conclusive that all reasonable doubts were removed from the minds of the jurors.

Then Macha again changed the chart resting on the easel to one that denoted special issues that would be addressed during the penalty phase of the trial. Wyatt sat expressionless as Macha went through the first issue. The district attorney contended that Wardrip had deliberately caused the death of Terry Sims. He emphasized the differences between deliberate and intentional, stating that “deliberately requires more thought process than intentionally” when it came to murder.

“Can you see the distinction between ‘intentionally' and ‘deliberately'?” Macha asked.

Wyatt said nothing. He merely nodded. He crossed his arms and listened closely as Macha continued.

“The second special issue to address is future dangerousness. Ask if this man would probably commit other crimes on society,” Macha said. “You with me?”

“Yes, sir,” Wyatt said as he nodded again.

The third issue dealt with mitigation.

“Is there something about the facts of this offense or about the defendant that would warrant a reduction to a life sentence? Anything to reduce his moral blame?” Macha asked.

“No, no, yes to these issues means a life sentence. Yes, yes, no equals the death penalty,” Macha continued.

As Wyatt nodded to indicate his understanding, one of the sheriff's deputies yawned, leaned his head against the wall, and closed his eyes.

“If you are selected to serve and sat on the jury and I did prove guilt and I did satisfy the issues for the death to be imposed, can you do that?” Macha said, looking Wyatt in the eye.

“Yes, sir,” Wyatt said with conviction.

“The people of Denton County have been nice to us,” Macha said. “I appreciate your service.”

The tall handsome district attorney returned to his seat at the prosecution table and waited for the public defender to interview the potential juror.

John Curry remained in his seat throughout the questioning.

“You've had back surgery,” Curry said softly, referring to the written questionnaire completed by Wyatt. “Would that affect you sitting on the jury?”

“No,” Wyatt said as he turned to face Curry.

“You said you were uncomfortable at the DWI trial because it was drawn out. Will the length of time that it will take for this case cause you a problem?”

“No,” Wyatt answered.

“It seems you've done some thinking about the death penalty,” Curry said. “Do you have a special interest?”

“No special interest. I've just seen cases in the news. I've thought about it for a long time,” Wyatt replied.

“You only get one shot at it. There's no chance to come back when you sentence someone to die by lethal injection,” Curry said.

Wyatt kept his eyes on Curry. He didn't notice Wardrip staring at him, waiting for a reaction.

“Based on the evidence, can you apply the definition of deliberate?” Curry asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“On future dangerousness, if a person is in prison and he'd never been in trouble and his behavior is controlled with medication, can you conceive that person could be dangerous in the free world, but not in a controlled environment of prison?” Curry asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“When younger, people are more prone to violence. When they are older, they are more self-controlled. Are people capable of change?” Curry asked.

“Sure,” Wyatt said.

“All things considered, if the circumstances indicate the death penalty is not appropriate, the third special issue allows you to say life is more appropriate. Can you do that?” Curry asked.

“Yes, I can do that,” Wyatt said.

“I'm sure you've heard the term ‘parole.' You won't hear information about parole here. Your decision shouldn't come down to concern about being released sometime. If instructed not to consider parole, can you?” Curry asked.

“Yes, sir,” Wyatt said.

“On behalf of Faryion and myself, I want to thank you for coming today,” Curry said.

Judge Brotherton spoke to Wyatt before excusing him for the day.

“We will continue to speak to potential jurors. We'll call fifty back and let you know the twelve who will serve, plus two alternates,” Brotherton said. “We'll take a break now.”

 

 

When court resumed, each juror was questioned just as John Wyatt had been. Some, like the young man who followed Wyatt, were excused. The clean-cut young man was scheduled to report on November 17 to Provo, Utah, for missionary training. He would spend the next two years as a missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of the Latter-Day Saints.

Both Macha and Curry agreed to excuse the potential juror, noting that the trial might very well go longer than the November 17 date he was scheduled to report.

Macha walked to the witness box and extended his hand.

“Good luck,” Macha told the soon-to-be missionary.

And so it went with each of the fifty possible jurors called in the Faryion Wardrip trial, both the prosecution and the defense competing for jurors who would be honest, fair, and sympathetic to their side.