Body Hunter (20 page)

“Looking at the whole scene, Ellen Blau died of undetermined homicidal violence. A violent death inflicted by another person,” Dr. Fielder replied.

Before turning the witness over to the defense, Macha admitted into evidence the medical examiner's report, State's Exhibit 122.

As had become customary throughout the trial, John Curry had no questions.

The trial was clipping along at a speed that even surprised Barry Macha. If the trial continued at the pace he had set, the case would go to the jury by Friday.

“The State calls Shelly Kelly,” Macha said loudly.

Kelly, an attractive woman in her mid-thirties with reddish-brown hair and a medium build, was the cousin of Tina Kimbrew. Only thirteen months apart, the two young women had been more like sisters than cousins as they grew up in Vernon, Texas.

Macha asked Kelly to tell the jury what occurred on May 6, 1986.

A few of the jurors took long, deep breaths, as though bracing themselves for yet another barrage of facts and photos concerning the death of one more young North Texas woman.

“On May 5, 1986, Tina's mom had back surgery in the Wichita Falls hospital,” Kelly began her account. “I went to see her May 6, 1986, with my grandmother. I drove my grandmother and Amy, my two-year-old daughter. We were at the hospital at two o'clock or three o'clock
P.M.
Tina was expected, but we didn't see her. We assumed she was on her way to the hospital when there was no answer on the phone.

“My grandmother wanted to go by Tina's apartment to check on her. ‘She needs to get up there and see her mom,' my grandmother said. She had been there the night before and said she'd be back.

“We drove over to the Park Regency Apartments on Seymour Road. I had a key to Tina's apartment. I knocked on the door, but there was no answer. Her car was there, so I thought she'd gotten a ride with someone.

“Amy had made a mess on her face from some candy. My grandmother said, ‘Let's go in and clean Amy up.'

“The dog met me at the door, jumping up. I glanced to the right and noticed a table and lamp had been knocked over. I told my grandmother, ‘Look what that dog did to this apartment.' Then I noticed Tina on the floor on her back. I thought she was unconscious. I thought she had fallen. I went straight over to her, but knew something was wrong. I grabbed Amy and backed up against the wall. Amy had seen Tina and my first reaction was to move my daughter. I was scared. Tina was faceup with one leg bent, leaning against the table. Her nightgown had been pulled up above her waist. I don't recall if she had on anything under her gown. I just stared at her face in shock.

“My grandmother got on the floor and tried to wake her up. There were bruises on her face. My grandmother said, ‘Shelly, she's dead. I can't look at her like this, let's get something to cover her up.'

“I got a sheet, covered her, then called the police,” Kelly continued.

“Did you touch anything?” Macha asked.

“No, I didn't touch anything. I was in a state of shock. I didn't know what to do. I just sat and waited for the police,” Kelly said, reliving her worst nightmare.

“Will you describe Tina Kimbrew for the jury?” Macha asked.

Tina's mother dabbed her eyes with a tissue as she watched her niece talk about her only child, the daughter that Faryion Wardrip had ripped from her life.

“Tina was five-foot, seven-inches tall and about one hundred ten to one hundred and twelve pounds. She had brown hair and brown eyes. She was very petite,” Kelly said, remembering her pretty young cousin.

“Was Tina's death difficult for you?” Macha inquired.

“To this day it's the worse day of my life. It's never gotten any better. It seems it's always going to be there,” Kelly replied, her voice laced with sadness.

Shelly Kelly had done what she had been asked to do, tell the jury about Tina. She had held it together, for Tina. But as Kelly returned to her seat by Tina's mother, she broke down and cried.

 

 

With no questions from Curry, William Stephen Pruitt, a nineteen-year veteran of the Wichita Falls Police Department, took the stand. As an investigator for the Crimes Against Persons Division in 1986, Pruitt had been called to Kimbrew's apartment at the Park Regency Apartments.

Upon arrival, Pruitt had found another officer checking the body of a white female for life signs. Finding none, Pruitt had removed the sheet and noticed that the woman was wearing a light-colored nightgown. Her genitals were exposed, there was bruising on her face, neck and legs, and he'd noticed her panties close to her body.

Pruitt located a witness in the apartment complex who reported seeing a tall, lanky, white male wearing a ball cap knocking on Tina's door earlier in the day. Then the description was put out over the television asking for information.

“Did the Wichita Falls police receive a phone call from the Galveston Police Department?” Macha asked.

“Yes, they said a white male subject had called the Galveston police threatening suicide. When they responded, they made contact with Faryion Wardrip,” Pruitt replied.

Macha asked Pruitt to tell the court what Wardrip had told the Galveston police.

“He made a statement admitting to killing Tina Kimbrew. He said he had struck her and beat her about the face, then strangled her. He said he had known her, that they met when he was a bouncer at the Stardust country-and-western club. He said he was the one described on TV. Then we went to Galveston to pick him up,” Pruitt said.

“Can you identify that man?” Macha asked.

Pruitt pointed to Faryion Wardrip sitting at the defense table next to Dorie Glickman.

“When did you take his statement?” Macha probed.

“We took his statement in Galveston. His hand had been injured, but he didn't know how,” Pruitt said, continuing with a description of the injury to the hand as the knuckle of the middle finger and some bruising. “He told us his nickname was ‘Gonzo,' but never told us why.”

From the back of the courtroom, Bryce Wardrip flinched slightly. He recalled his brother telling him how he had gotten the unusual nickname from friends who thought he looked like the fictional character with the same name in the
M*A*S*H*
television series. Bryce bristled at the thought of Faryion believing he looked like a TV personality. It was so like Faryion to think he was important.

Bryce was having difficulty dealing with the trial and dealing with all the lies Faryion had told him and his family over the years. He was torn between family loyalty and seeing justice done. Faryion was his brother, but he believed that if a person did the crime, he should be punished. That included Faryion.

“Did he tell you he went out with Tina Kimbrew two times, but not again because he met other girls?” Macha queried.

“My recollection is two times,” Pruitt said.

The police detective then told jurors that, based on Wardrip's statement to authorities, an arrest warrant was issued and he'd been taken back to Wichita Falls where their witness picked Wardrip's picture out of a photo lineup.

“Did he indicate he knew Ellen Blau?” Macha asked.

“Yes, he indicated he knew Ellen Blau,” Pruitt said.

“Did he confess, plead guilty, and receive a thirty-five-year sentence?” Macha inquired.

“Correct.”

“He was never considered a suspect in the Sims, Gibbs, or Blau cases, is that correct?” Macha asked.

“He mentioned he knew Ellen Blau and that information was passed on to the Wichita County Sheriff's Office for their investigation,” Pruitt explained.

As spectators hummed with the realization that the murders of Ellen Blau, and perhaps Sims and Gibbs as well, might have been solved fourteen years earlier if only the sheriff's department had followed through with questioning Wardrip.

The State's last witness of the day prepared to testify. Dr. Gillium, the pathologist who had performed the autopsy on Tina Kimbrew, took his oath to tell the truth. As Dr. Gillium talked passively about the compression of blood vessels in the neck, and how it had taken between ten and thirty seconds for Tina to have lost consciousness, Tina's mother wiped tears from her eyes.

“You must keep applying pressure for several minutes to cause death,” Dr. Gillium explained, adding that Tina had known for some time what was happening to her.

Still photographs of Tina Kimbrew's lifeless body were passed to the defense team for their review. Curry and Glickman studied the photos as their client looked away. Their investigator sat behind them.

Dana Rice remembered Tina Kimbrew well. They had gone to school together in Vernon, Texas. She remembered Tina's father and his interest in Palomino horses, and Tina's mother, the attractive woman who sat on the front row behind the prosecutors each day.

Dr. Gillium stepped down from the witness chair and stood with Macha in front of the jury. He pointed to photos and diagrams of the victim as he described her injuries.

“There were finger marks on her body, as though she had been grabbed,” Dr. Gillium said. “On the left side of her face, there is bruising on the forehead, eye, and cheekbone. There is a mark on her chin consistent with a chain. That mark moves up and is impressed on her cheek,” he said, pointing to a photo of Tina Kimbrew's face.

“It is not easy to see pinpoint hemorrhages. Some of the skin marks are not injuries,” he explained.

He told the jury that marks found on Kimbrew's elbows were consistent with contact with a rough surface, such as the carpet.

Again, there were no visible or audible signs from the four men and eight women of the jury to indicate how they had assimilated the impact of victim number five.

And, as usual, there were no questions from Curry or Glickman for the defense.

As court adjourned early for the day, DA Investigator John Little stood and suppressed a smile of satisfaction. The trial had progressed just as Macha had planned. A hint of a dimple showed on Little's handsome face. He knew that his turn to testify was fast approaching and he was ready. With his testimony, Little was prepared to nail the lid shut on any hope that Faryion Wardrip could generate some degree of mercy from the Denton jury.

Chapter Twenty-five

It was the third day of his capital murder trial and things weren't going well for Faryion Wardrip. Not his court case. Not his personal life. Wardrip's belt was missing. When Dana Rice arrived at the jail that morning, he was in a dither.

“My belt is missing,” he said anxiously.

Rice looked at him with disbelief. Wardrip was on trial for his life and all he could worry about was his belt.

“Why worry about that?” Rice asked.

“Now, that was a nice reversible belt. Glenda gave it to me,” Wardrip said.

Dana Rice shook her head and left for court. She wondered how Wardrip could be more concerned with a belt than with the possibility of dying.

At the front of the Denton County courthouse, Rice saw Dorie Glickman vigorously shaking out her jacket.

“What are you doing?” Rice asked.

“I'm looking for Faryion's ring,” Glickman said.

“You lost Faryion's ring?” Rice asked, concern mixed with laughter filling her voice.

Glickman began rifling through the low hedge that lined the walkway.

“I have my ex-husband's ring, we can give him that one later. We'll tell him his is in the room. We have to get to court,” Rice said, encouraging Glickman to give up the search.

As soon as the women entered the courtroom, Wardrip knew immediately something was wrong.

“I think Dorie lost my ring,” Wardrip told Rice. Then, turning to Glickman, he said, “You lost my ring, didn't you?”

“Why do you think that?” Glickman asked innocently.

“The way you look,” Wardrip said with a touch of hostility in his voice.

“I lost fifteen dollars. I've been looking for it,” Glickman lied.

Wardrip settled down and waited anxiously for the court session to begin.

Dorie Glickman stepped behind the railing that separated spectators from the court and looked unhappily at Dana Rice.

“I think I really lost Faryion's ring,” she said.

“I know, Faryion figured it out, but he bought your lie,” Rice said, in an attempt to make her boss feel better and redirect her attention to the trial.

Later Dorie Glickman found Wardrip's ring, gave it to him, and he was content, for at least a little while.

 

 

Jill Hill from Little Rock, Arkansas, was Barry Macha's first witness of the day. The FBI special agent, assigned to the Violent Crimes Squad, was a DNA specialist.

The tall, thin, attractive blonde explained to the jury that DNA is a chemical located in the cells of the body. All DNA cells are the same throughout a person's body and everyone's DNA is distinct, with the exception of twins.

“There are several tests available for testing DNA,” Hill explained.

“RFLP is an older test not used much anymore. The test requires a good amount of the DNA sample and it must be in good condition.

“PCR is a method where DNA can be copied to increase the amount for analysis.”

Hill told the court that in 1996 DNA testing was done on vaginal and rectal smears from Toni Gibbs, as well as her white uniform top. They were compared with DNA from Danny Laughlin. From the vaginal smear a sperm fraction was found—meaning a female portion and a male portion. From those tests, on March 29, 1996, Hill had been able to exclude Danny Laughlin as the sperm donor.

A few weeks later, Hill had been sent items from the Sims's case: a tennis shoe, yellow Kleenex, a hair from Sims's head, and blood samples from a police suspect.

Hill discovered a fingerprint in blood on the heel of the left shoe. She took swabs from the shoe for testing, then transferred the shoe to the Latent Print Division for fingerprint analysis.

Hill said that the Kleenex she tested appeared to be blood soaked, as if someone had been holding it.

Hill tested the vaginal and oral swabs from the Sims case and was able to exclude the police suspect at that time.

 

 

With no questions from the defense, Barry Macha called his key witness.

John Little walked to the witness stand with confidence. The dark-haired, well-built investigator had been the topic of numerous news articles since breaking the fourteen-year-old case. His name was familiar to everyone in the courtroom, with the exception of the Denton jurors.

“How long have you been an investigator with the district attorney's office in Wichita County?” Macha asked.

“Six and a half years,” Little said in a slow Texas drawl.

“What did you do before that?” Macha asked.

Little twitched slightly, as though he preferred not to answer the question. He hadn't arrived at the district attorney's office by the usual route of prior law-enforcement experience; he had been a bricklayer.

Little's wife had been expecting twins at the time of his decision to enter police work. “She told me to go out and get a job,” Little had told friends.

Bricklaying was seasonal work. With a rapidly expanding family, Little needed the security of a regular paycheck. Each morning before work, he had stopped at a local convenience store for a cup of coffee. He often talked to the Texas Highway patrolmen who were taking their morning breaks. They encouraged him to take the entrance test and go to work for the Wichita Falls police. But Little had a problem. He failed the eye exam. He decided to have RKO eye surgery to improve his vision. He completed his law-enforcement training, and redirected his desire for security and his interest in the law to the district attorney's office. No one was more pleased with Little's decision than Barry Macha.

Little didn't mention that he had been somewhat involved in the Gibbs case years earlier. Little's wife and Gibbs had once been members of the same college sorority. He had been invited to a party at the woman's house, and although he didn't know her, Little had liked her. When he had heard of Gibbs's disappearance and the urgent need for people to help with the search, Little immediately called his brother and they both volunteered. John Little and his brother crossed frozen fields near Gibbs's apartment, up and down alleys, and through empty parking lots. They found no trace of the pretty young nurse. Now, nearly fifteen years later, he could finally help the Gibbs family.

Little explained to the jury that Macha had requested that he take the cold case files of Sims, Gibbs, and Blau and study them. He had driven to locations important to the case and read and reread each of the files, knowing that the Sims and Gibbs cases were connected because of DNA testing and suspecting that Blau's murder was linked as well.

Two weeks later, Little determined that he wanted to talk to Faryion Wardrip. Little had read a report in the file that Lieutenant Callahan had been informed that Wardrip knew Ellen Blau. Then, he read a report from Janie Ball, linking Faryion Wardrip to her apartment house. Callahan had even taken a photo to Janie Ball, which she recognized as Faryion Wardrip, a man living in the same building across the hall.

Little had further connected the slain women with Wardrip when he checked employment records at Wichita General Hospital. The work records indicated that Wardrip was employed at the hospital during the time of the murders of Sims on December 21, 1984, and Gibbs, less than a month later.

City water service accounts from the apartment house on Bell Street indicated that water service was initiated in apartment A, Wardrip's unit, on October 12, 1984, and cut off for nonpayment on April 18, 1985. During that time period both Sims and Gibbs were murdered.

“The decision to locate Faryion Wardrip and get a saliva sample to be used in DNA testing was made,” Little testified.

“I located Faryion Wardrip in Olney, Texas, at an apartment complex on Mockingbird. I went to Olney on February 1, 1999. Originally, just to see where he went during the day. Where he lived. Where he worked. I followed him around town.”

“Can you point Faryion Wardrip out for the jury and describe him?” Macha asked.

“Right there at the end of the table,” Little said, pointing to the defendant. “He's six-foot, six inches tall and weighs about two hundred pounds. He worked at the Olney Door and Screen Company.”

Little explained how he watched Waldrip from his car and how he would change cars so the defendant wouldn't notice he was under surveillance.

“I watched Wardrip from the laundry across the street from his work. I'd go in and watch through the plate-glass window. On February 5, 1999, I was watching from the laundry. He would go in and out of the yard and drive a forklift.

“A little after nine o'clock
A.M.
, Faryion was loading a trailer. He then walked from the yard to the main building. He was in the building five minutes. His wife and a small child drove up to the west of the gate in front of the building. Faryion came out with a coffee cup and a package of cheese crackers. He opened the gate, then closed it, holding the cheese crackers in his mouth.

“Faryion sat in the passenger seat. I watched him eat and drink for about fifteen minutes. He got out, sat the cup on top of the car, opened one side of the gate, then walked to a green, fifty-five-gallon drum and pitched the cup into the can. He then opened the gate fully.”

John Little then told the jury the story everyone in the courtroom had read about or heard on the news.

“I walked over and asked Faryion if he had a cup—a spit cup. We walked over to the trash can and got a cup. It had cracker crumbs on the rim,” Little said regarding retrieval of the State's primary piece of evidence.

Little explained that he then labeled and packaged the cup, completed his paperwork, and took the cup to Judy Floyd at Gene Screen for testing.

As Little testified to the events that led to the apprehension of Faryion, Glenda Wardrip arrived at court. Forty-five minutes late, she took her seat behind Faryion. He scribbled on a piece of paper, folded it, and handed it to his wife. The note read “I love you.”

The coffee cup Little rescued from the trash, photos of the cup, barrel, and Wardrip's workplace were all admitted into evidence.

Little described the fax he had received from Judy Floyd stating that Faryion Wardrip couldn't be excluded as a donor for the DNA found on the oral swab in the Sims case. He told the jury that an arrest warrant had been issued on February 12, 1999, for the offense of capital murder. The warrant authorized the gathering of a blood sample and fingerprints from Faryion to be compared to evidence found at the scene of the Sims murder.

“On February 12, 1999, we interviewed Faryion Wardrip, advising him of his rights. We asked about the case of Ellen Blau because we had DNA for Sims and Gibbs. We wanted to talk about Ellen because of the lack of physical evidence in the case,” Little said.

“I object, Your Honor,” John Curry said loudly from his seat. “I object to this line of questioning.”

“Overruled,” Judge Brotherton responded.

“Did he deny knowing Ellen Blau or having anything to do with her death?” Macha asked.

“Yes, he did,” Little answered.

Little informed the jury that he arrested Wardrip for the capital murder of Terry Sims. He obtained a blood sample, and again Little submitted Wardrip's blood to Judy Floyd at Gene Screen. Little had also obtained a second search warrant for an additional set of prints.

“Judy called and said she was able to collect saliva from the cup for DNA testing,” Little said.

Glenda Wardrip sat quietly in her place behind Faryion. Her face red and splotchy, Glenda appeared to have spent the night crying. The trial was hard on her. She found it difficult to listen to testimony that described a man she'd thought she knew. A man she loved.

Macha told the court he had no further questions for John Little, but would be recalling him later. He then called Judy Floyd to the stand.

“I would like the record to reflect my objection to this testimony based on evidence collected by the search warrant,” Curry stated.

“The record will so reflect,” Judge Brotherton responded.

Judy Floyd approached the court dressed in a dark gray suit, her frosted brown hair neatly shaped. Floyd was a professional, having testified more than two hundred times in court for matters concerning DNA evidence.

Floyd began her testimony in the Wardrip case by discussing Terry Sims. In a report dated February 12, 1999, Floyd said that DNA tests she ran showed that the saliva from the coffee cup provided by John Little matched the sperm from the oral swab taken from Sims.

“The frequency of occurrence is one in every one billion, two hundred million,” Floyd said. Meaning that only one person out of one billion, two hundred million people could be a possible match. That made the odds of the sperm being Wardrip's nearly certain.

In the Toni Gibbs case, Floyd stated that the genetic profile of the vaginal swab and the saliva were a match.

Then Floyd referred to a report she had prepared on May 13, 1999.

“I compared the oral swabs to the paper cup with saliva and blood that had been drawn from Faryion Wardrip. There were a total of ten markers on each item of evidence,” Floyd said.

“Did he have unusual genetic markers?” Macha asked.

“Yes. Mr. Wardrip had several uncommon high numbers for frequency of occurrence,” Floyd answered. “The frequency for the North American Caucasian population was one in 3.23 quadrillion. The sperm from the oral swab is unique in only the individual who could have left the sperm.”

Floyd told the jury that the results were the same in her official report for the Sims case. In that case, she had tested the oral swab and blood from Wardrip.

“Is it most likely that the sperm deposited in Toni Gibbs was deposited by the defendant?” Macha asked.