Anna Flowers - Bound to Die. The Shocking True Story of Bobby Joe Long, Americas Most Savage Serial Killer

ONE

Look at it fly! Two seventeen-year-old boys tossed homemade plastic bag parachutes toward the sky in a cow pasture near I-75, southeast of Tampa, Florida. Their peals of laughter floated across the field on this picture-perfect afternoon. It was Mothers Day, May 13, 1984. Retrieving one chute, which had floated down to rest on what appeared to be a dead animal, they were horrified to discover the maggot-infested body of a nude young woman. Repressing the urge to vomit, they ran to call the Hillsborough County Sheriffs Office.

Capt. Gary Terry and Det. Lee Baker were the first to arrive at the crime scene. For a few moments, they stared in amazement at the body. The woman lay on her stomach, her legs forced apart wider than she was tall. Some inhuman creature had pounded her severely and lashed her wrists behind her back with knotted rope. A cumbersome noose had been looped three times around her neck and tied with still another kind of rope. She looked monstrously like a roped and tied calf that had been mangled and left in the field.

My God, she took a beating. Terry shuddered as he got a deep whiff of the decomposing body. In the Florida heat, dead bodies do not last long. Although he was middle-aged, Terry had a boyish appearance, with straight brown hair spilling across his forehead. His large eyes were weary from looking at dead girls, and they were the only feature that betrayed his true age. Whatya think? he asked Baker. About three days on this one?

Baker nodded, his index finger automatically pushing his wire-rimmed glasses up on his nose. He had a pleasant presence that projected a kind of fatherly trust. Graying hair topped his amiable face. People called him Pops.

He must have broken her hips to pull her legs that far apart, he said, sighing. Her legs were pulled at right angles to her petite body. Her jet-black hair was about the only part of her left intact. Probably Asian, he guessed.

Terrys brow wrinkled as his sharp eyes studied the small figure. You can almost sense the creep that did this, he muttered, as other technicians began to gather at the scene.

In fact, the killer had left his imprint with tire tracks starting at a barricade that blocked the dirt access road to the field. The barricade was part of the construction area control for the I-75 complex construction equipment. He had driven about 300 feet into the field where the attack had occurred, then had backed up his car about forty feet before swinging around to head past the barricade again. He came within three feet of the fence to pass the barricade on the same side where hed entered.

Plaster tire impressions were made of this by Technician Daniel McGill, while Judy Swann started taking photographs. This tire evidence would become invaluable. The front and rear right tires had the same standard tread design as most manufacturers used, but the left rear tire was unusual.

Can I get to her now? asked Dr. Charles Digg, the deputy medical examiner. Terry waved his slender hand with the large class ring and nodded. The doctor kneeled to examine more carefully the rope around the victims neck and looked up wide-eyed. This is absolutely bizarre!

Her anguished face had plowed the ground as she had been ridden from behind, arms tied behind her back; a restraining rope around her neck had been jerked as she was being raped and strangled to death. The men studied the physical evidence that gave witness to this horrible death.

Dr. Digg grunted as Baker leaned forward to look closely at the white silk cloth under her head. Could have been used as a gag, the detective said.

Terry was having another thought. Over thirty bodies had been found so far this year in Hillsborough County, but this one was very unique, ghoulishly sexual, almost staged.

Finally, he spoke to Baker, squinting his eyes in a gesture that lined his forehead. I think wed better call the FBI in on this one, he said quietly. Almost immediately, these veteran law enforcement officers knew they had a deranged killer on the loose.

The body had been reported late in the day and the investigating team was happy that the limited amount of evidence allowed them to wrap up the case quickly. Everything was photographed. The scarf, ropes, and tire imprints were all plotted on a chart, then marked, boxed, and returned to the HCSO.

As the body was being prepared for transport to his office, Dr. Digg pondered the kind of person whose handiwork would produce such a tortured corpse. Although he had been in this business for many years, the depth of human cruelty still amazed and saddened him.

Once back at his office, Dr. Digg donned his green surgical scrubs, shoe covers, mask, and hat. He immediately started taking X-rays. No projectiles showed up in the body and there were no stab wounds.

Dr. Arthur Pickard and Technician Racey Wilson photographed the body and took fingerprints from the left hand. Dr. Digg noted the woman weighed eighty-eight pounds, measured five feet, two inches, and had small breasts and shoulder-length black hair. Samples of pubic and cranial hair were taken, as were fingernail clippings. Oral, anal, and vaginal swabbings were collected.

Dr. Digg removed the ligatures intact from the victims wrists by slipping the rope and cloth over her hands. Pickard placed these items in a paper bag while Digg cut the rope from around the womans neck. The knot area was near the front of the throat, so a cut was made to the left of the knot. The ends of the rope were then color-coded with tape and removed from around the neck. The ends were taped together and the rope was put into an evidence bag, and photographs were taken of the ligature marks on the wrists and neck.

The doctor opened the torso cavity and collected blood and urine samples. He noted the stomach was empty and the victim was not pregnant. He examined the neck area and found bruising where the ropes had been, but the hyoid bone was intact. His conclusion was the cause of death had been strangulation.

At four oclock the same day, Capt. Terry called special agent Michael P. Malone at the FBI lab in Washington, DC. Malone settled his large frame comfortably in his chair and listened intently to Terrys details of the case. His intelligence was evident in his wide face. His large brown eyes narrowed as he instantly absorbed the information he was hearing. Malone was good. In just eight years he had become recognized as a top forensic expert whose hair and fiber analysis was legendary. He respected professional performance in the field and he was pleased to be getting it now.

Bring me what youve got, he said, when Terry finished talking. He hesitated a moment to soften his next request, And Ill also need her hands.

Immediately, Det. Baker was flown to Washington with the evidence. This now included the hands, which had been surgically removed from the victim by the authorities and put in separate plastic containers. The ropes, the white scarf, and the tire castings were packaged carefully as well.

Baker rode straight from National Airport along Potomac River Drive, turned before he got to the Pentagon, and went across the 16th Street Bridge, which channels incoming traffic into downtown Washington.

The FBI Hoover Building has very high concrete steps that extend the entire width of the vast old building. From street level, it is almost like a palace fortressstrong, and seemingly not easily penetrated. Bakers nostrils were filled with the scent of Asian street cooking, and an earlier spring shower had put a slight chill in the air. There was nothing about the building that looked particularly American. It could have been in the center of any city in the world. It was as Hoover must have intended it to be: authoritative, removed from people, and intimidating.

Baker proceeded down the ramp to the underground lobby, where he would have easier access with his packages. He registered with Security, was issued a visitors badge, and waited for his escort, who would take him down the hall to the elevators and up to the third floor where Malone waited.