Paul Alexander - Murdered

MURDERED

Paul Alexander

Copyright

MURDERED

Copyright 2013 by Paul Alexander

Cover art, special contents, and Electronic Edition 2013 by RosettaBooks LLC

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

Cover jacket design by Terrence Tymon

ISBN ePub edition: 9780795334023

All of the information in this work of nonfiction is true. My reporting is based on primary and secondary sources. No dialogue has been invented.

Contents

It was going to be another pleasant day in Los AngelesMonday, February 24, 1986.

This morning, Sherri Rae Rasmussen would normally be getting dressed to head in to her job as supervisor of nursing at the Glendale Adventist Medical Center, but, after some consideration, she decided to stay home today. An avid exerciser who took pride in maintaining the athletic build of her five-foot-eleven-inch body, she had pushed herself too hard late last week in an aerobics class, wrenching her back. Though she had taken it easy over the weekend, she still had some pain. Another day of rest would do her good.

At 7:30, Sherri said goodbye to her husband, John Ruetten, as he headed off to work. Newlyweds of three months, Sherri and John had married in November in a picture-perfect ceremony following a whirlwind romance during which John, smitten with Sherris classic beauty and gregarious personality, asked her to marry him after they had dated only eight months. She accepted. The two of them just knew they were right for each otherso why wait? In keeping with a growing trend among independent, career-oriented women, Sherri retained her maiden name. She also remained focused on pursuing a career in hospital administration. In the wake of the womens movement, Sherris parentsstrong and always supportivehad raised her to be the kind of woman who did not need a husband and marriage even if she may have wanted both. John understoodand embracedthe way womens lives were changing throughout society, one of the traits Sherri admired about him most.

Sherri did not go down with John to see him out. She assumed he would lock the door and turn on the alarm system as he normally did when he left. Then she called her boss to say that, because of a minor back injury, she was taking a sick day. Afterwards, she spent the rest of the morning relaxing, more than likely resting in bed. Later, she decided to get up and putter around. Her townhouse had three levels, with two bedrooms on the third level, the kitchen and dining room on the second, and the living room and entrance foyer on the first. Sherri had loved the layout of the townhouse when she bought it, the reason she encouraged John to move in with her after they married. She didnt think she would find a townhouse she liked better, and she wasnt readynor was John, for that matterto purchase a larger home.

It was quiet today, being home by herself. Then, around noon, as she walked from the kitchen into the dining room, she was startled beyond imagination when she came upon the last thing she expected to see. Standing before her, right in her home, was another person. No alarm had gone off, no noise had come from a door or a window to suggest someone was breaking in, but across from her, as if appearing out of thin air, was an intruder. Sherri froze. Terror seized her. Her heart began to race, pounding in her chest. Her instinct was to flee, yet she could not force herself to budge. Before she could do anything, the intruder lunged, heading straight toward her.

Horrified, Sherri watched the intruder pull out a .38 caliber snub-nosed revolver, pointing it in her direction. She knew one shot could kill her. She had to do something. Her instincts finally kicking in, she charged the intruder. Their bodies slammed together as they locked into a violent struggle. In excellent physical shape herself, any signs of a wrenched back having vanished in her life-and-death panic, Sherri was trying her best to overpower the attacker whenpop! pop!the gun went off. Because the attacker had not gotten a good aim, one shot went up, one downthe expected trajectories of a weapon fired during a physical altercation. Then, a deeper distressSherri felt warmth. A thick liquid. She had been hit. She was bleeding.

She had to run. She had to get out of the townhouse. She had to find help or she could bleed to death. Breaking free, Sherri rushed through the dining room, down a set of stairs, and toward the front door. If she could not reach the front door and get outside, then at least she could hit the panic button beside the doorand the security company would send help right away. As she ran, she could feel the intruder behind her. Sherri was only steps away from the front door or the panic button, steps away from being able to save herself from this violent assault, when the attacker tripped her from behind to send her sprawling onto the floor. Blood smeared all over the floor as she slid across it. Sherri turned and looked up, her attacker looming over her. With vicious, angry eyes, the attacker approached. Sherri opened her mouth to scream. A piercing, blood-curdling cry out came. It was alarming it was so loud, the kind of scream you hear when a persons life is at stake.

In an adjacent condominium, a maid heard a scream and agitated noises in the near distance, which was out of the ordinary. This neighborhood in the San Fernando Valleyand specifically the 7100 block of Balboa Boulevard with its trendy condominiums and serene tree-lined streetswas always peaceful. Still, the maid did not think enough of the sounds of a possible assault to call the police and continued to go about her job cleaning the condominium.

Meanwhile, Sherri had somehow managed to slip away from the attacker and, standing up, rushed from the foyer into the living room. She was not running with any destination in mind; she was just running to get away. In the living room, the intruder caught up with her. Again, the two erupted into a fierce struggle. With some effort, Sherri maneuvered herself around so she could get the attacker in a chokehold. Because of her physical prowess, Sherri angled her left arm around the attackers throat. She was chocking with all the power she could summon when suddenly the attacker bit down into Sherris left forearm. The bite was made with such doglike ferociousness the attackers teeth hit bone.

A gut-wrenching yell! The pain was so severe Sherri recoiled from the bite, letting go of the attacker. Looking around for a solid object, the attacker spotted a ceramic vase, picked it up, and, with deliberate force, smashed it into Sherris forehead. The brutal blow crushed Sherris skull. Knocked unconscious, Sherri collapsed onto the floor, her body sprawled out on the carpet. With Sherri immobile, the attacker now had time to hurry off into another part of the townhouse in search of a large cloth or article of clothing. Returning with a bathrobe, the attacker wrapped it around the muzzle of the pistol to stifle the blast of gunfire and, aiming the revolver pointblank at Sherris heart, pulled the trigger. The bullet exploded into Sherris chest. To make sure Sherri was dead, the attacker focused the gun on Sherris heart a second time and squeezed the trigger.

As the intruder stood in the abrupt silence of the room, Sherri lay motionless on the floor. Blood poured from her body, soaked up by the carpet. The only sound in the room was the intruder gasping for breath.