Worth More Dead

late Ione Kniskern who is truly missed. These great women have survived and triumphed over many vicissitudes of life, all the while doing more manuscript reading and book buying than any friends I have!

Acknowledgments
    There were dozens of people who led me through their personal memories of the circumstances and details involved in the five cases in this book. I was both impressed and grateful for their crystalline recall. There are some individuals who wish to remain anonymous because they are both private and modest people. Many thanks to you all, and thank you to the Internet, a miraculous tool for authors who must follow slender threads back into the past histories of victims, suspects, and investigators. I could never have imagined such a reSource might one day exist.
    “Worth More Dead”: Hank Gruber, Joe Sanford, J.K., Ron L. Edwards, Greg Meakin, Doug Hudson, Myrle Carner, P.K., Doug Wright, Jim Harris, Lieutenant Lewis Olan, Chris Casad, Steve Sherman, Ginger Arnold and the Staff of the Kitsap County District Attorney’s Office, Rudy Sutlovich, Sue Paulson, Mike S.
    “It’s Really Weird Looking at My Own Grave”: Kathy Casey, Stacy C., Chuck Wright, Bob LaMoria, Frank Chase, and Cheryl.
    “Old Man’s Darling”: Captain Joseph Padilla, Detective Betty Smith, Kirk Mitchell, Sean Kelly, Howard Pankratz, George Merritt (Denver Post) Lisa Ryckman, Brian Crecente, Sarah Huntley (Rocky Mountain News).
    “All for Nothing”: Cindy Versdahl, Lee Yates, Lucas Fiorante, KOMO-TV’s Northwest Afternoon, Robert Shangle, Verne Shangle, David Martin, and Paul R. and Ellen Martin.
    “A Desperate Housewife”: Denise and Gary Jannusche, Linda and John Gunderson, Patricia Eakes, John Henry Browne, and Antoinette Olsen.
    With special thanks to Patty and Gary Guite of AAA Liquidating, Kevin Wagner, Matt Parker, and Jeremiah Hanna-Cruz.
    There is no way I could turn out even one book without the team that stands behind me: Louise Burke, my editor Mitchell Ivers, Josh Martino, Felice Javit, Donna O’Neill, Victor Cataldo, and Steve Llano.
    To my agents of so many years now that none of us wants to admit just how many: Joan and Joe Foley of The Foley Agency, and my theatrical agent, Ron Bernstein of International Creative Management.

Preface
    Human life is very precious to most of us; nothing is as valuable as drawing in breath and feeling the reassuring beat of our hearts. Most of us feel the same about the lives of other creatures, from fellow humans to animals, and this often includes even bugs’ small lives. Some people eat meat but would never think of hunting wild creatures. Some are vegetarians or vegans. The majority of us feel sad and even cry when we hear of disasters halfway around the world in which hundreds of people we never knew have perished. This ability to empathize—to identify with the pain of others—is the part of us that makes us human.
    Yet there are other people who feel no sorrow or empathy when someone else suffers or dies. When they want something, the end justifies the means. Their motivation is usually financial gain or sexual conquest, but sometimes they act out of a need for revenge. If they look back at all on the death of someone who got in their way, it is without regret or guilt. With those who have no conscience and no empathy, there are no lingering doubts.
    Despite my having written about a thousand or more killers, the ability to understand those without conscience is, for me, the most elusive. I can deal with it intellectually—but not emotionally.
    The title of this book came to me full-blown, almost in a nightmare: Worth More Dead. As disturbing as it is to accept that these murderers believed their victims were, indeed, more valuable to them dead than alive, I know that it is true.
    The first case history is about a man I encountered in a courtroom many years ago and never expected to hear about again. That he kept bouncing back into the headlines amazed me. He may have been smarter than many cold-blooded killers, or he may only have been more devious than most. He was always circumspect about choosing someone else to blame. Had he held the death weapons himself? That was always the question, but I think I may have finally answered it.
    “It’s Really Weird Looking at My Own Grave” is the story of a serial killer and rapist who believed that if his victims were dead, they could not come back to identify him. Fortunately, some of them were smarter than he