Body Hunter (23 page)

“On November 5, 1996, Faryion Wardrip said, ‘I didn't hurt anybody for fourteen years.' It's a lie. A big lie. His whole life has been a lie.”

Macha approached the jury rail and spoke softly.

“I want to remind you, five people died horrible deaths. I know this is one of the most difficult and important decisions of your life. These were citizens of our state. The defendant is not the only one who has rights. These girls have rights, too. There are no mitigating circumstances.

“Remember to use the same response this girl said,” pointing to Sims picture. “She said no.

“He deserves to die for what he did. Those girls deserve to see this man forfeit his life.

“Remember, the last thing these girls saw in their lives was Faryion Edward Wardrip.”

Macha's impassioned plea for the death penalty sent tears of sorrow pouring from the eyes of the victims' families. But the jury remained as they had throughout the majority of the trial, unshaken visibly.

Judge Brotherton excused the two jury alternates, thanking them for their service, then excused the twelve jurors for deliberations.

There was nothing more for Macha to do. He had built a strong case on powerful evidence. He gave most of the credit to his investigator, John Little, who through the use of high-tech DNA testing, coupled with old gumshoe investigative work, had supplied Macha with the ammunition needed to take Wardrip down.

Visibly absent was Paul Smith, the Archer County investigator who had helped Little build the case. Some say it was “politics” that had pushed Smith to the background, while others believed all the credit should go to Little. Whatever the dynamics behind Smith's absence, Macha had done an effective job of taking the evidence supplied him and presenting it to the jury.

The jury began deliberating a few minutes after nine
A.M.
Within two hours, they were stuck on the second question, which asked whether Wardrip could be a continuing threat to society.

The first vote was ten-to-two that Wardrip was a threat, but the vote had to be unanimous in order for the jury to move on to question number three.

 

 

During the course of the five-day trial, the families of Wardrip's victims had become close. They had stayed in the same hotel and each night had gathered together to learn about each other. Wardrip had ripped their individual families apart, yet bonded them collectively in a mosaic of comfort and caring. Now they waited for the jury to decide the fate of a killer. Holding hands, resting in one another's arms, they sought each other's compassion.

For Wardrip, only Bryce and Tina Wardrip were present to hear whether he would live or die. Glenda Wardrip had been absent in court for two days. Word had it that she had moved to Oklahoma. Living in Olney, attending the trial, had all been too much for the wife of a man convicted of five unthinkable killings. Likewise, to escape the publicity and pain of their son's trial, Wardrip's parents had fled to the serenity of their daughter's home in Florida.

As the bailiff announced that the jury was returning, people scurried to the courtroom in anticipation of a verdict. But they would have to wait. The jury had merely asked for the further definition or explanation of the meaning of “society.”

 

 

Inside the jury room there was little sympathy for Wardrip. There were some tears, but more for the enormity of the task they had been asked to do, than for the defendant. All twelve jurors took their assignment seriously. They were dealing with a person's life.

 

 

As most of the families waited outside the courtroom, Elaine Kimbrew Thornhill wandered in. Faryion Wardrip sat quietly at the defense table. For more than ten minutes, Elaine stood in the courtroom, staring at her daughter's killer, never turning away.

Wardrip glanced up to meet Elaine's cold stare.
I'm sure she thinks I'm going to get away with it again,
Wardrip thought to himself.
She never wanted me to get out of prison.

Again, the bailiff signaled that the jury was returning to the courtroom. The families moved at a slower pace, hoping that this wasn't another false alarm, that a decision had finally been reached.

Dorie Glickman asked her co-counsel, “Do you think it's the death penalty?”

Curry whispered, “Yes.”

The twelve expressionless jurors took their seats. They avoided looking at the defendant as the judge asked if they had reached a verdict.

“Yes, Your Honor,” the foreman said.

Dressed in an olive green shirt and brown pants, Wardrip remained seated at the defense table. He'd drunk a chocolate milk shake right before entering the courtroom and seemed more concerned about the mints he had asked for being absent than the impending verdict.

“What about my mints?” he was heard to ask Curry.

Curry reached over and patted him supportively on the back and whispered softly, “Shut up.”

After five days of testimony, the jury responded to the three questions given them by Judge Brotherton. Yes, they believed Wardrip had acted deliberately in causing the death of Terry Sims. Yes, they believed he represented a continuing threat to society. And, no, the jury did not believe there were any mitigating factors that would warrant that Wardrip spend his life in prison rather than be put to death.

By effectively answering each question, the jury had sealed Faryion Wardrip's fate. He would die by lethal injection strapped to a gurney in the Texas death chamber.

The crowd in the courtroom barely restrained their joy. There were hugs all around, with John Little receiving the bulk. Barry Macha had a smile and a hug for Sims's sisters. It was for Terry Sims's murder that Wardrip would be executed.

One of the Wichita County assistant DAs calmly walked to the front of the courtroom and turned the easel with the five smiling faces of Sims, Gibbs, Blau, Kimbrew, and Taylor to the jubilant gallery. Elaine Kimbrew Thornhill clasped her hands, raised them, and shook them in a sign of victory.

As the gallery celebrated his impending death, Wardrip stood, angrily spoke to Curry, and was led away by Wichita County deputies.

Except for his wife, Bryce Wardrip stood alone in the back of the courtroom. Torn between the satisfaction that justice was done and love for his brother, Bryce exited the courtroom, his black cowboy hat in his hands.

“Bryce,” Robert Kimbrew said, stopping the younger Wardrip.

“Yes.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure,” Bryce said hesitantly.

“How old are you?” Robert asked.

Bryce looked puzzled. “Thirty-two,” he answered.

“Well, that son-of-a-bitch. He lied to me. He told me he was the youngest in his family,” Robert said bitterly.

Bryce only shrugged. He was not surprised.

 

 

After a slight delay, Wardrip shuffled back into court, his hands bound by handcuffs secured to a leather belt, and shackles encircling his ankles.

The courtroom was packed. The regular court attendees had been joined by workers from offices around the courthouse, as well as all twelve jurors.

Tina Wardrip placed her arm around her husband as the judge spoke. “Faryion Wardrip, please stand.” Glickman and Curry rose to stand beside their client.

“Do you have anything to say?” Judge Brotherton asked.

Wardrip shot a quick glance toward Curry. He had asked the public defender if the judge would be asking him if he had anything to say, but Curry had told him no. Faryion had lots to say, most of all that he was sorry for what he had done.

“Don't say anything,” Curry advised.

Faryion, disgusted with the system, responded with a resounding “No, sir.”

Judge Brotherton announced that Wardrip would be transported from Wichita County to the Texas Department of Criminal Justice in Huntsville until the date of his execution.

Under Texas law, victims have the right to make an impact statement in court. Vickie Grimes, one of Terry Sims's sisters, chose to exercise that right.

As Grimes approached the stand, she shot a look of hatred at Wardrip. Her voice grew venomous as she told the court and Wardrip of the sorrow she and her family had experienced since Terry's death. That her grandmother gave up her will to live. That her own children would never know Terry, but through her, would know what a great person she was.

“I will be there to watch you put to death,” Grimes said. “I only wish you would suffer. I do not see how you can live with yourself. I only wish you can suffer the way the girls did. I will always remember you as a coward.”

Her words had an affect on everyone in the courtroom.

“All these women had so much to give. If God told you to confess, why did you wait until you got caught? You using the Bible as an excuse is a sin in itself,” she told Wardrip.

“I know what it's like to watch a child die. To hold them. These women had no one to comfort them. You changed all our lives forever.”

Vickie Grimes left the stand while spectators mourned the loss of the five women whose pictures remained a glaring reminder of Wardrip's carnage.

Wardrip knew in his heart the pain and suffering he had caused. He knew it before Elaine Kimbrew Thornton had testified and before Vickie Grimes had rebuked him.

Wardrip turned to his lawyers, and said, “I appreciate everything you've done for me. I'll never forget you.”

Then, as he was being escorted from the courtroom, Wardrip looked at the surviving victims and in a spontaneous burst of conscience, he blurted out, “I'm sorry.”

Just as spontaneously, Robert Kimbrew retorted, “You sure are!”

Epilogue

Victims of violent crimes extend far beyond the individual who suffers the wrath of the brutality. Like a pillaging hailstorm, the violence destroys indiscriminately, causing loss to some and leaving others untouched. The courts say Faryion Wardrip had five victims; in reality they are countless. The casualty list begins with Faryion himself.

 

Faryion Wardrip is currently on death row in Livingston, Texas. The maximum-security prison maintains optimum control by segregating prisoners in single cells composed of reinforced walls and metal doors. Only a single slot where food is passed gives Faryion contact with another human. The one hour a day he is allowed for recreation is spent alone in the exercise yard. There is no day room. No television. He passes his time reading his Bible, writing letters to his wife, and drawing.

In addition to the death sentence imposed by Denton jurors for the murder of Terry Sims, Faryion Wardrip received three life sentences after pleading guilty to killing Toni Gibbs, Debra Taylor, and Ellen Blau. The sentences, which will run consecutively, ensure that even should the thirty-nine-year-old murderer not be executed, he would serve a minimum of sixty years behind bars before becoming eligible for parole.

As Wardrip left the Wichita County courthouse to return to death row after his plea in the Blau case, he was asked by KFDX television reporter Dana Byerley how he felt after the court appearance.

“I'm glad this is almost over with and the families can put this behind them and start with some closure and some healing,” a dejected Wardrip replied. His head hung low, and his shoulders were rounded as he shuffled down the hall in leg restraints.

“I have remorse every minute, every day,” Wardrip said. “I start my day with remembering and I finish my day with remembering.”

“How do you prepare for death?” Byerley asked, referring to the lethal injection the convicted murderer will be facing once his appeals are complete.

“You can't prepare,” Wardrip said in a muffled tone. “You just do the best you can.”

The depression that plagued Faryion Wardrip as a child and followed him through adulthood has a secure grip on him emotionally. Wardrip has indicated he will not seek additional appeals of his death-sentence case after the initial state-mandated appeal.

“I'm ready to go home,” Wardrip said in an exclusive interview. “I told my wife I'd miss her and she'll miss me, but I told her that when my time does come, I'll be at peace.”

 

Before the start of Faryion Wardrip's trial for the murder of Terry Sims, Glenda Wardrip sold the poodle she gave her husband for Christmas, packed up her belongings, and moved to an undisclosed location in nearby Oklahoma. There she is in charge of a latchkey program for children.

Glenda writes to Faryion, but rarely visits. She refuses to discuss the past, something he feels a need to do. Glenda wants only to look forward, never back. Glenda is going on with her life in the service of God. Wardrip family members report Glenda has been accepted at an overseas missionary school.

 

Bryce and his family continue to live in Olney, Texas. The ordeal of his brother's exposure as a serial killer has left Bryce with fewer friends and bitter memories. Bryce painfully refutes statements made by his brother regarding their parents and his declarations that he was a troubled youth, plagued by depression, learning disabilities, and misunderstanding by everyone, including his parents. Wardrip claims to have reached out to his mother and father, but says they never understood his needs. He remembers that he cried a lot and his parents just thought it was part of his personality rather than depression. He claims he sank deeper and deeper into a corner of despair.

Bryce publicly blasted Faryion for accusing his parents of mistreatment, saying, “Mom and Dad had done so much for Faryion and the other kids. I remember all the bicycles, go-carts, and automobiles they bought for us when we were growing up.

“What Faryion has said has left a black mark on their names. One of the things my father gave me was a lot of pride in the Wardrip name and in myself, and I am not going to let anyone say things about my parents which are not true. I don't care who it is.

“The thing Faryion needs to do is to take responsibility for what he's done and not blame anyone but himself. I am strongly in favor of the death penalty, and I think Faryion is going to get what he deserves.”

Bryce, who has not heard from Faryion since he was sentenced, plans to attend the execution of his brother “to make certain justice is served.”

 

Faryion's parents, George and Diana Wardrip, continue to live quietly in Olney, Texas, where Mrs. Wardrip takes care of her ailing husband as he recovers from cancer.

They have written to Faryion and have traveled to see him on death row.

 

Johnna Wardrip divorced Faryion shortly before his imprisonment for the murder of Tina Kimbrew. She has remarried and lives in an undisclosed location with her husband and her two children fathered by Faryion. The children were allowed no contact with any of the Wardrip family for the fourteen years between Wardrip's arrests. There were no letters. No pictures. Since his imprisonment on death row, Johnna now feels sufficiently safe to allow both her son and daughter to have contact with their paternal grandparents, and they have written letters to their father.

 

Terry Sims's parents divorced as a result of the murder of their daughter. As a consequence of Terry's death, Mrs. Sims experienced periods when she was “not well.” Neither of Terry's parents lived to see their daughter's killer brought to justice.

 

Ken suffered endless torment during the fourteen years his wife's killer was at large. He was estranged from his daughters, his in-laws, and many friends whose faith had wavered under the close police scrutiny.

Although it was a great relief that Wardrip confessed to the brutal murder of his wife, the image of Debra lying on the cold steel morgue slab is forever burned in Ken's brain.

“I think Mr. Wardrip should be very glad these guys [the authorities] got him before I did,” Taylor said shortly after testifying at Wardrip's trial.

Ken has remarried and has one child.

 

Debra Taylor's oldest daughter continues to harbor the pent-up anger she feels about her mother's senseless death. Only the medications she takes help level her emotions.

“I hate the world,” Tarrah said. “I have so much anger inside me.”

The holidays are especially difficult for Tarrah since the suspicion of her stepdad as the killer split her family apart. Tarrah believes it may be possible that one day she can forgive Wardrip for what he did, but she will never forget. All Tarrah has of her mother is memories.

“My dad tells me all the time I'm just like my mom. She's not around for me to see that myself,” Tarrah said. “The memories that I have are that she was a kind, loving person that would never hurt anybody. She definitely didn't deserve to go through something like this.”

Although Tarrah was able to make a statement at Wardrip's sentencing for her mother's death, his placid demeanor gave her little satisfaction.

 

The best friend of Ellen Blau continues to mourn the loss of the person she still considers her soul mate. She spoke at the sentencing hearing of Faryion Wardrip and expressed the importance of Ellen being remembered by both herself and Ellen's elderly parents. After Janie had read her victim's impact statement, Wardrip spoke an unemotional “I'm sorry.”

The gesture was meaningless to Janie. “That meant nothing to me,” Janie said. “You can't just come back later and say, ‘Oh, I'm sorry.' ”

Her best friend continues to live in the heart and mind of Janie Ball through her daughter, whom she named Ellen.

 

The Kimbrews divorced before the death of their only child, Tina. Together they have continued to fight the fight against Wardrip until his death sentence has been rendered. Robert Kimbrew, who owns a seed store, lives in Oklaunion, Texas. Elaine now lives in Vernon, Texas, with her second husband.

 

Danny Laughlin's mother cannot let go of the bitterness she feels toward Wichita County and Archer County officials. Following the arrest of Faryion Wardrip, Hooker requested an official apology for the daunting harassment of her son. She one day hopes to give the expression of regret to Danny's son, Cody, along with news clippings and snips of news videotape that proclaim his father's innocence. But Wilma Hooker is not likely to receive the written statement she so deeply desires.

The oral expression of apology and pledge to “take his job more seriously” that Wilma Hooker received from Barry Macha is not enough for the grieving mother.

 

District Attorney Barry Macha continues to represent the people of Wichita County in his elected office. He is diligently working on forming an interjurdisdic-tional violent crimes task force that will work together in solving crimes against people outside each member's bounds of authority. The task force would bring the various departments together to avoid the “turf guarding” that has occurred in the Wichita Falls area in the past. Macha believes that the organization of the special unit will avoid the future persecution of any innocent suspect, as well as help to expedite the apprehension of the guilty.

 

Investigator John Little remains with the Wichita County prosecutor's office as their chief investigator.

Catie Reid, the youngest sister of Terry Sims, visited Little a few weeks after Wardrip's trial. She carried with her a token of appreciation. A red brick. The simple reminder of his past was inscribed with the words
OUR HERO, JOHN LITTLE
.

 

 

Each of those victimized by Faryion Wardrip has expressed a desire for closure. To experience true closure, one must find satisfying explanations and in the end view the situation in clear and stable terms. It has helped some to confront the killer, but in order for there to be complete finalization, they must let go of the emotional burden each of them has carried for fourteen years. The anger, shame, and even, in some cases, guilt they have felt must now be released to Wardrip. Only then can the hail storm be withstood, if not forgotten.