Susan D. Mustafa - Blood Bath
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Blood Bath: summary, description and annotation
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They Knew He Was Out There
He took his time. He watched his victims and chose carefully. Then he struck--each attack more brutal than the last. By the time detectives arrived, all they found were gruesome crime scenes of bloodied, brutalized bodies. . .
They Knew He Would Strike Again
For more than ten years in South Louisiana the killings went on. Task forces were formed. The killer even spent time in jail. But that wouldnt stop the bloodshed. One victim was stabbed with a screwdriver 83 times. . .
But They Couldnt Stop Him--Until Was Too Late
He was a father. A husband. A co-worker. And a killer. Derrick Todd Lee was ultimately convicted of two savage murders and tied to at least seven more. From the slender trace of DNA that finally nabbed him to the courageous prosecutors who took him down in court, this is the shocking story of a homicidal maniac hiding in plain sight--and an evil that could never be washed away. . .
Includes 16 pages of shocking photographs
Previously published as Ive Been Watching You
Susan D. Mustafa is the executive editor of Southeast News in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. She is the award-winning co-author of No Such Thing as Impossible--From Adversity to Triumph, written with Jairo lvarez Botero, and a freelance journalist for a variety of magazines throughout the South.
Tony Clayton was the special prosecutor of the South Louisiana Serial Killer in the Geralyn DeSoto case. He currently serves as assistant district attorney for West Baton Rouge Parish. His career has included posts as a special prosecutor, district court judge, assistant district attorney and instructor of pre-law at Southern University.
Sue Israel has more than twenty years of writing and editing experience and currently serves as the public information officer for the Office of the Commissioner in the state of Louisianas Division of Administration.
He took his time. He watched his victims and chose carefully. Then he struck--each attack more brutal than the last. By the time detectives arrived, all they found were gruesome crime scenes of bloodied, brutalized bodies. . .
They Knew He Would Strike Again
For more than ten years in South Louisiana the killings went on. Task forces were formed. The killer even spent time in jail. But that wouldnt stop the bloodshed. One victim was stabbed with a screwdriver 83 times. . .
But They Couldnt Stop Him--Until Was Too Late
He was a father. A husband. A co-worker. And a killer. Derrick Todd Lee was ultimately convicted of two savage murders and tied to at least seven more. From the slender trace of DNA that finally nabbed him to the courageous prosecutors who took him down in court, this is the shocking story of a homicidal maniac hiding in plain sight--and an evil that could never be washed away. . .
Includes 16 pages of shocking photographs
Previously published as Ive Been Watching You
Susan D. Mustafa is the executive editor of Southeast News in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. She is the award-winning co-author of No Such Thing as Impossible--From Adversity to Triumph, written with Jairo lvarez Botero, and a freelance journalist for a variety of magazines throughout the South.
Tony Clayton was the special prosecutor of the South Louisiana Serial Killer in the Geralyn DeSoto case. He currently serves as assistant district attorney for West Baton Rouge Parish. His career has included posts as a special prosecutor, district court judge, assistant district attorney and instructor of pre-law at Southern University.
Sue Israel has more than twenty years of writing and editing experience and currently serves as the public information officer for the Office of the Commissioner in the state of Louisianas Division of Administration.
Susan D. Mustafa: author's other books
Who wrote Blood Bath? Find out the surname, the name of the author of the book and a list of all author's works by series.
Susan D. Mustafa
Susan D. Mustafa
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CEMETERY STALKER
Water poured from the skies in steady streams over the blue Toyota Corolla in which the teenage couple was parked. A rainy night in the Buhler Plains Cemetery only added to the romance as they fumbled with each others clothing. The graveyard, with its tombstones made of concrete covered in drooping daisies and tulips and roses, was the perfect place for young love to blossom.
The young boy kissed the girl as he helped her peel down her pants, first one leg, then the other. Hungry for closer contact, he rid himself of his jeans and lay on top of her in the backseat, loving the feel of her body so close to him, uninhibited by clothing. So focused was he on the girl that he did not hear the footsteps approaching through the patter of rain and the passionate whirring in his brain. When the door opened, he jumped up, startled.
He couldnt see the man, but the dome light outlined the bush axe just before it bit into the boys scalp, cutting deeply. The girl screamed, putting up her arms to defend herself, but not before the axe raked across her leg. The axe kept coming as the young couple tried desperately to avoid its jagged edge. They were unsuccessful, the axe ravaging the boys arms, his hands, as he tried to protect the girl; the ferocious man wielding the weapon was determined to hack them to bits.
BLOOD BATH
S USAN D. M USTAFA
and T ONY C LAYTON
with
S UE I SRAEL
and T ONY C LAYTON
with
S UE I SRAEL
PINNACLE BOOKS
Kensington Publishing Corp.
http://www.kensingtonbooks.com
Kensington Publishing Corp.
http://www.kensingtonbooks.com
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
For the victims
Genesis
On November 5, 1968, deep in the heart of bayou country, a monster was born.
Connie Lynn Warner
In late summer 1992, Louisiana residents were busily preparing for Hurricane Andrew, which had come through Florida and into the Gulf of Mexico only a few days before. Theres nothing that can raise tensions in the middle of a humid Louisiana summer faster than a strong, approaching hurricane, and residents of Baton Rouge and its suburbs hurried to stock up on last-minute supplieswater, gasoline, nonperishables, and plywood and tape to protect vulnerable windows. Andrew had carved a destructive path over the Bahamas and through the lower parts of Florida and was lurking in the Gulf, carefully choosing its next victims.
The townspeople in Zachary, a small town about fourteen miles northeast of Baton Rouge, were not as concerned as those who lived in lower-lying areas closer to the coastlines.
Connie Lynn Warner was a bit concerned, though not about the hurricane. She was worried about the black man she had seen peeping into the windows of her home in Oak Shadows subdivision. Connie had made a report to the police and had not seen the man since, but still, she worried.
Connie had moved to the subdivision only four years before, attracted to the pretty rows of starter homes, which lined the streets of the neighborhoodstreets named Job and Saul and Eli, Leviticus and Numbers, their names taken from the Bible. Connie lived on Job Avenue, on the corner, in a pretty pale-brick home with a single carport and large yard. A privacy fence ran along the back edge of her property, separating her home from the backyards of those on the next street.
After many years of living with her parents, Jack and Betty Brooks, Connie was excited that she was finally making it on her own. She had divorced her husband when her daughter, Tracy, was only a baby. Zachary was the perfect place to raise the child around whom Connie had built her world.
In 1992, Zachary was much smaller than it is today, quiet and charming with old family homes situated on large properties in neighborhoods that lined country roads. There were not many commercial structures to be found beyond the towns small business sector. The Zachary Police Department (ZPD) sat amidst a few businesses on the main road in the center of town. As Baton Rouge experienced the exodus of many middle- to high-income families searching for better schools in which to educate their children, the town experienced a boom, and construction accelerated.
But in August of 1992, Zachary still retained its small-town appeal, complete with low crime rates and friendly neighbors who enjoyed easy accessibility to Baton Rouge when things became too monotonous.
Connie was unaware that the safe neighborhood filled with other single mothers and families just starting out had already become fodder for a man who lived just down Highway 964 in St. Francisville, a man who liked to watch light-skinned women with dark hair.
Oak Shadows subdivision runs alongside Azalea Rest Cemetery, whose majestic oaks proudly cast shadows over the edge of the subdivision when the sun is positioned in the west. With huge roots sprawling above ground, these expansive oaks also provide shade for those buried in rows beneath their branches. Flowers and toys surround graves whose markers denote time lines back through the 1800s.
While the dead peacefully rested, young mothers in Oak Shadows subdivision hurried about their lives in blissful ignorance of the danger that lurked in the shadows of the cemetery.
Connie couldnt have been happier when she bought her home. Finally she had a place where she and Tracy could build a life. That accomplishment had been difficult. She had gone into her marriage with high hopes, only to find herself alone with a child to raise. She had gotten a job with the Louisiana Department of Health and Hospitals as an accountant, but she was laid off shortly after she moved into Oak Shadows because she didnt have a college degree. Upset by this setback, Connie once again enlisted her parents help, and they agreed to take care of her bills while she concentrated on earning her degree. In 1990, Connie graduated from Southeastern Louisiana University in Hammond, equipped with the diploma that would ensure her future. She soon found another job with the state, and she and Tracy at last had the financial security that Connie had worked so hard to achieve. Connies worries were put to restuntil she saw the man peeping into her window.
Connie was not one to go out much, especially at night. Her poor vision did not allow many excursions after dark because it was too difficult for her to see clearly. She went to work and went home, unless Tracy had an activity she needed to attend. Connie always made time to go to Tracys basketball and football games, proud that her daughter had been chosen for the cheerleading squad. But mostly her evenings consisted of cross-stitching and sewing and watching television.
Although very attractive, with her curly brown hair, pretty green eyes, which were partly hidden behind large hard-rimmed glasses, and her open, friendly smile, Connie preferred to stay home. She chose to devote her life to her seventeen-year-old daughter and was happy with her simple existence. She had worked hard in her forty-one years and was content with the peaceful life she had created.
A steamy night in August, one week before her forty-second birthday, would change all of that. Someone was watching, waiting for the right moment to strike. Police are not sure when Connie Warners world was invaded by an unknown man bent on her destructionif it was August 23 or 24. But they know that she was alone that weekend. Tracy had gone to stay with her boyfriend, Andre Burgas, although Connie thought her daughter was staying at a friends while going through orientation at Louisiana State University (LSU). Connie knew the importance of a good education, and she was proud that Tracy would soon be attending the university.
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