Body Hunter (6 page)

“We think that it was a person who knew her. It wasn't a random thing,” Callahan told the press.

Therefore, three different agencies continued to work three separate homicides looking for three individual killers.

 

A motorcycle slowly passed the field where Toni Gibbs's decomposing body had been found earlier in the day. The man atop the chopper-style cycle made several passes, watching with concentrated interest the activity surrounding the crime scene. After what would be his last pass, twenty-four-year-old Danny Laughlin roared the engine and sped off, his brown, shoulder-length hair blowing behind him and a smile unmistakably covering his handsome face.

Danny Laughlin worked as a bar-back at the Stardust Club in Wichita Falls. He didn't take orders, mix drinks, or mingle with the patrons. Laughlin's job was to mop up the bar and make certain that clean glasses were always within an arm's reach of the bartenders. Occasionally he performed as a male stripper. The handsome young Laughlin had a tight body and seductive moves that female clubgoers appreciated. He also had an overzealous need for attention.

Laughlin had drawn suspicion to himself as he walked his pet wolf in the field near where Gibbs's brutalized body was discovered, as well as his constant motorcycle passes by the crime scene. But not until he denied to a Wichita County grand jury that he had committed the burglary of a Southwestern Bell Telephone office because, “I was in a field out near U.S. 281 and West Jentsch Road at the time,” the area where Gibbs's body had later been found, was Laughlin considered a suspect in the murder. Police believed that if Laughlin was in that field, then he must have been there to kill the pretty young nurse.

Witnesses' statements seemed to support the police investigators' theory. Laughlin had been seen in the vicinity of the murder and he seemed to have had an extraordinary curiosity concerning the homicide. In addition, Laughlin himself raised suspicions. He knew information that hadn't been released to the press—information known only to the killer. Police were certain they had their murderer. They focused all their attention on building a case against Danny Laughlin, abandoning any further search and refusing to entertain any notion that the Gibbs's murder could be connected to Sims and Blau.

Laughlin spent the next six months in jail awaiting trial. He frequently wrote to his mother describing harassment by jail guards and his fear of prosecution for a murder he continued to deny.

“They've taken DNA samples from me three times,” Danny complained to his mother. “They keep coming in my cell asking for hair, blood, and semen. I know I didn't do it. If those tests match, they've been tampered with.”

Wilma Hooker wept when she read her son's letters. Trouble had always followed Danny. It began as early as kindergarten, when Danny had been kicked out for misbehaving and happened again in the fifth grade when he was confined to a mental hospital. He had only moved to Texas from Kansas City a short time before Gibbs's murder to protect his sister, a victim of domestic violence. But the pain in Wilma's heart knew the trouble Danny faced in Texas was worse than anything he had yet experienced. She hoped he could hold up under the strain.

“They keep asking me to write out a confession, but I won't. I'm getting really scared,” Laughlin wrote his mother. “The guards keep telling me the State is going to give me a lethal injection and give a lethal injection to my dog. If I'm convicted and they do execute me, I want you, sis, and Mr. Katz to be there.”

Danny Laughlin's spirit continued to weaken as he waited for trial in an Archer County Jail cell. He talked with other inmates about the crime. He talked to anyone who would listen.

 

 

 

Danny Laughlin strolled into the Gainsville courthouse with a legal pad and black-bound Bible tucked in his right hand. The young defendant was clean shaven, with a new short haircut, and a seemingly unconcerned grin on his face. In his white, long-sleeve shirt and neatly pressed khaki pants, Laughlin barely resembled the motorcycle-riding bar-back/dancer arrested months earlier for the death of Toni Gibbs. He walked with an air of confidence, joked with law enforcement officials, then seated himself next to his defense attorney.

On a change of venue, two hundred potential Cook County jurors had been called for the capital murder trial. They packed into the 1910 beaux-arts–style courthouse located in the center of the town square. The impressive brick and limestone building, one of only a few Texas courthouses built in the twentieth century, featured terra-cotta ornamentation, eagle brackets, and a copper-clad dome. It was the site selected to bear the responsibility of accommodating the Laughlin trial in an unbiased manner.

Wichita Falls District Attorney Barry Macha joined Archer County District Attorney Jack McGaughey in prosecuting Laughlin. Once a twelve-member panel had been seated, the two experienced prosecutors began laying out their case.

“Laughlin met Miss Gibbs at the Stardust Club where he worked, and there he made sexual advances toward her,” Macha told jurors, setting up the theory that Gibbs had been killed for rejecting Laughlin's advances.

The lighthearted mood Laughlin had taken into court quickly turned to anger. He had told Roger Williams, his court-appointed attorney, that he hadn't known Gibbs personally, but only by sight. The two had only spoken once, briefly in passing at the club. Now the prosecution was portraying him as a cast-off suitor. Laughlin was furious.

Wilma Hooker sat behind her son, her outward composure masking the emotional turmoil inside. Wilma had ridden a bus from Arizona to Texas to be at her son's trial. An unknown benefactor from nearby Olney, Texas, was paying her motel bill. It was a financial strain to be in Gainsville, but Wilma would have made any sacrifice to be there for Danny. She remembered the day she had received a phone call from a stranger in Texas notifying her that Danny had been arrested for murder. She hadn't believed it then, and she didn't believe it now.

The medical examiner from the Southwest Institute of Forensic Sciences explained to jurors about the multiple contusions and bruises on the upper chest of Toni Gibbs. Dark bruises on her left thigh and the left side of her chest were also pointed out. Then, with the aid of graphic photos, the medical examiner showed jurors a one-inch-long, incised wound on the left thumb, stab wounds on Gibbs's chest, and three stab wounds on her back.

Jurors flinched as they stared at the color photos of a young woman's body, ravaged not only by the rage of an out-of-control killer, but also by the ravenous appetites of wild animals. Their eyes drifted from the carnage in the pictures to the man accused of committing the crime.

When Texas Ranger Gerth told jurors that, when questioned, Laughlin had mentioned something about an arm and a leg being eaten off the body, Laughlin's mood descended further into the depths of despondency. “That information had not been released publicly and was knowledge only the killer would have,” Gerth stated.

Nikkie Standifer, a Certain Teed Corporation employee and key prosecution witness, testified that she had seen Laughlin in the Archer County field where Miss Gibbs's body was found, prior to its discovery. “It was either on February ninth or tenth,” Standifer said.

The prosecutor reminded jurors that Gibbs's body had not been found until February 15.

Laughlin shook his head and mumbled under his breath in frustration. During the morning recess he stomped out of the courtroom. He didn't like the way his trial had started. Macha was twisting the facts, spinning the truth.

When Harry Harrison was called to the stand, Laughlin's mood changed from despair to wrath. He loathed Harrison. Laughlin had first met the career criminal while they were both incarcerated in the Archer County jail. Laughlin's eyes followed Harrison as he sashayed confidently to the witness chair.

“We had just finished eating breakfast and talking about our military service,” Harrison said as he began to talk about his association with Laughlin. Harrison then dropped a courtroom bomb.

“He said he held a knife to her [Gibbs's] throat and held her in the missionary position. When he got through [raping her], he stabbed her and then turned her over and sodomized her. After that, he started crying and said he had found the Lord since then and God would forgive him,” Harrison said, with a slight grin of satisfaction directed at Laughlin.

Laughlin was infuriated. He made little effort to hide his aggravation and almost everyone in the courtroom knew he was close to losing control.

“Have you been promised anything by the District Attorney's office in exchange for your testimony?” Defense Attorney Roger Williams asked Harrison.

Although Harrison denied agreeing to any such exchange of information for favors from the DA's office, it was later learned that seventeen charges against Harrison had been expunged from his record.

When Phil “Rocket” Guerieri testified that Laughlin had told him there was no reason to keep looking for the missing nurse, Laughlin again expressed his anger. He vigorously wrote on his yellow legal pad and underlined something so strongly that paper ripped and heads turned in his direction.

Roger Williams turned and spoke quietly to his client, who nodded and sat back peacefully.

The last of a jailhouse trio to testify against Laughlin was Glen Lowrance. He told jurors that Laughlin had told him in the county jail, “I know I'm guilty, but I've got this case beat and I'll be out in two weeks and write to you.”

Danny Laughlin remained silent, his head drooped. His mother sat behind him, a hot flash of resentment surging through her body.
Lies, all lies,
she thought. Wilma Hooker was unfaltering in her belief that Danny didn't kill Toni Gibbs. No one could convince her he had, but it was up to Roger Williams to convince the jury of her son's innocence.

Danny Laughlin had been riding a wave of emotions during the first days of the trial. His initial confidence had slipped away like seaweed drawn back into the ocean. But Laughlin's mood was elevated to a new high when Bob Estrada, a criminal defense attorney hired by a friend of Laughlin, entered the courtroom and took his seat beside his new client and Roger Williams. By the time Williams had finished questioning the first defense witness, Laughlin had resumed his self-assured attitude. His renewed confidence spread to his mother, whose mood had likewise taken a surge upward.

Joyce Gregory, a former bartender at the Stardust, told the jury that Laughlin's job behind the bar would leave him little time to talk to patrons of the club. Her description of Laughlin's work cast doubt that he would have had the opportunity to “hit on” Gibbs at the popular Wichita Falls watering hole. Gregory also stated that she was with Laughlin from about eleven-thirty
A.M
. until later in the afternoon on the day Gibbs was reported missing.

“I was helping him move into his Fillmore Street apartment and riding around in his pickup truck,” Gregory said. “He took me home about five-thirty that afternoon. Then I saw him again later that night at work.”

The partial alibi that Gregory was providing for Laughlin infuriated Barry Macha. The tall, handsome district attorney was on his feet ready to attack the witness and her relationship to the defendant on cross-examination.

“You spent quite a bit of time together,” Macha said smartly. “In fact, you spent so much time together it caused you and your boyfriend to break up, didn't it?”

“That's true,” Gregory said, “but we were just close friends.”

“Didn't you previously tell the grand jury that Laughlin took you home at three or four? Is your memory better today or better then?” Macha demanded angrily.

“It's better today,” Gregory said matter-of-factly.

“It's better with age? Like fine wine?” Macha asked sarcastically.

Macha's tone of voice had Williams before the judge objecting to Macha's badgering of the witness.

District Judge Frank Douthitt warned Macha; then Gregory was dismissed.

Lisa Jones, another former Stardust employee, reiterated Gregory's testimony that Laughlin, as part of his job, did not have contact with bar patrons. She also testified Laughlin arrived at work at six-thirty
P.M.
on January 19.

Laughlin allowed himself a slight smile of satisfaction and his body took on a posture of increased comfort. Things were beginning to go his way.

Bill Blanton, a supervisor for CertainTeed Corporation, slowly walked to the witness chair. Blanton refuted Nikkie Standifer's testimony. The key prosecution witness had testified that she saw Laughlin in the Archer County field where Miss Gibbs's body was before it was discovered by authorities, and that the sighting had taken place on February 9 or 10. Standifer added that she was sure of the dates because she didn't think she had worked either day of that weekend. Blanton disagreed, telling the jury that Standifer had been at work on both days.

Blanton's testimony cast doubt on Standifer's credibility as to when, or even if, she had seen Danny Laughlin in the Archer County field.

Williams, Estrada, and Laughlin were confident as court recessed. Williams hoped to wind up his case the following day. Laughlin left the courthouse in the same talkative mood he had entered with on the first day of the trial. He was scheduled to take the stand the following day. Laughlin looked forward to telling his side of the story. Telling the truth.

The next day, Danny Laughlin sauntered to the witness stand with self-assurance. His shoulders back and head erect, he was the picture of confidence. Laughlin's dark eyes met his mother's and they exchanged smiles.

Laughlin's attorney asked him to explain to the jury what he was doing on the morning of January 19, 1985.

“Joyce Gregory and I did laundry; then we went back to my new apartment on Fillmore Street,” Laughlin said.