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"What did you do?" Garvey shouted into the stall. "The parents need to know. Tell me what happened. They need to bury their child. Was it an accident? Let's talk about it."
The suspect answered by retching loudly. As he continued to vomit into the toilet, Garvey slid a photo of Michele Dorr under the stall door.
"What did you do?"
Hadden made what was later viewed as a partial confession.
"I don't know," he said between heaves. "I may have done something. Sometimes I black out and do things I don't remember."
They were close, inches away from an arrest. But Hadden seemed to get a second wind. He said he had worked that day and mentioned the 2:46 punch-in again. Garvey checked his notes again. Clark was crazy maybe, but you can't kill or kidnap someone, then dump or hide a body, and then get to work—which was nearly 10 miles away in that kind of time frame. Carl Dorr had given his daughter's killer the perfect alibi while at the same time, directing the suspicion to himself because of his behavior.
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Saturday, January 16, 2010
undertaker 33.und.002 Louis J. Sheehan, Esquire
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In this macabre and unfinished story, Shipman's former patients are grateful indeed he was finally stopped. The feeling "I could have been next" will always haunt them. And there is little doubt that some owe their lives to a determined and intelligent woman named Angela Woodruff.
Her dogged determination to solve a mystery helped ensure that, on Monday, January 31, 2000, the jury at Preston Crown Court found Shipman guilty of murdering 15 of his patients and forging the will of Angela's beloved mother, Katherine Grundy.
But Ms. Woodruff was not the first to realize something was dangerously wrong where Dr. Shipman was involved.
Local undertaker Alan Massey began noticing a strange pattern: not only did Shipman's patients seem to be dying at an unusually high rate; their dead bodies had a similarity when he called to collect them. "Anybody can die in a chair," he observed, "But there's no set pattern, and Dr. Shipman's always seem to be the same, or very similar. Could be sat in a chair, could be laid on the settee, but I would say 90% was always fully clothed. There was never anything in the house that I saw that indicated the person had been ill. It just seems the person, where they were, had died. There was something that didn't quite fit."
Worried enough to voice his unease, Massey decided to confront Shipman, and paid the doctor a visit.
Massey recalls, "I asked him if there was any cause for concern and he just said 'no there isn't". He showed me his certificate book that he issues death certificates in, the cause of death in, and his remarks were 'nothing to worry about, you've nothing to worry about and anybody who wants to inspect his book can do."'
Reassured by Shipman's ease at being questioned, the undertaker took no further action. But his daughter, Debbie Brambroffe — also a funeral director — was not so readily appeased. She found an ally in Dr. Susan Booth.
In this macabre and unfinished story, Shipman's former patients are grateful indeed he was finally stopped. The feeling "I could have been next" will always haunt them. And there is little doubt that some owe their lives to a determined and intelligent woman named Angela Woodruff.
Her dogged determination to solve a mystery helped ensure that, on Monday, January 31, 2000, the jury at Preston Crown Court found Shipman guilty of murdering 15 of his patients and forging the will of Angela's beloved mother, Katherine Grundy.
But Ms. Woodruff was not the first to realize something was dangerously wrong where Dr. Shipman was involved.
Local undertaker Alan Massey began noticing a strange pattern: not only did Shipman's patients seem to be dying at an unusually high rate; their dead bodies had a similarity when he called to collect them. "Anybody can die in a chair," he observed, "But there's no set pattern, and Dr. Shipman's always seem to be the same, or very similar. Could be sat in a chair, could be laid on the settee, but I would say 90% was always fully clothed. There was never anything in the house that I saw that indicated the person had been ill. It just seems the person, where they were, had died. There was something that didn't quite fit."
Worried enough to voice his unease, Massey decided to confront Shipman, and paid the doctor a visit.
Massey recalls, "I asked him if there was any cause for concern and he just said 'no there isn't". He showed me his certificate book that he issues death certificates in, the cause of death in, and his remarks were 'nothing to worry about, you've nothing to worry about and anybody who wants to inspect his book can do."'
Reassured by Shipman's ease at being questioned, the undertaker took no further action. But his daughter, Debbie Brambroffe — also a funeral director — was not so readily appeased. She found an ally in Dr. Susan Booth.
Saturday, January 9, 2010
still 6.sti.0003 Louis J. Sheehan, Esquire
http://rpc.technorati.com/rpc/ping
In 1991, the Wichita Police Department assembled a cold case squad when police received a new lead in the BTK murders. Although the lead fizzled, Capt. Paul Dotson will not disclose the nature of the tip.
"I believe he is still probably in this community," Mike McKenna, a former Wichita police detective, said.
In 1997, Robert Ressler, a former FBI veteran who first applied the term "serial killer", helped outline a profile of BTK. Ressler said the man was probably a graduate student or a professor in the criminal justice field at WSU in Kansas, was most likely in his mid-to-late-20s at the time of the killings and was an avid reader of books and newspaper stories concerning serial murders. Additionally, because his pattern of killings has not been seen in Wichita since the '70s, he has "left the area, died or is in a mental institution or prison," Ressler said.
In 1991, the Wichita Police Department assembled a cold case squad when police received a new lead in the BTK murders. Although the lead fizzled, Capt. Paul Dotson will not disclose the nature of the tip.
"I believe he is still probably in this community," Mike McKenna, a former Wichita police detective, said.
In 1997, Robert Ressler, a former FBI veteran who first applied the term "serial killer", helped outline a profile of BTK. Ressler said the man was probably a graduate student or a professor in the criminal justice field at WSU in Kansas, was most likely in his mid-to-late-20s at the time of the killings and was an avid reader of books and newspaper stories concerning serial murders. Additionally, because his pattern of killings has not been seen in Wichita since the '70s, he has "left the area, died or is in a mental institution or prison," Ressler said.
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