Robert Waggoner - John - The Senior Killer

Meanwhile work went on day by day and down in Oregon agents of the FBI went from town to town, city to city posting alerts to the Senior Killer. In addition, agents made lunch speeches to seniors at their meeting and lunches. The same program went on in California and never in history had one serial killer had so many law enforcement agencies and agents in the field looking for him.

Towards the end of January a letter arrived at the Seattle Times newspaper office. Of course it was opened and read, handled and photo copied before the FBI had a chance to look at it. A front page article with a quarter page copy of his letter hit the Sunday edition. At least the Seattle office of the FBI had a chance to read it before it came out early Sunday morning, but any trace elements or such things had long since been gone by the time the lab got a hold of it for analysis.

The plain brown manila envelope had a smiley sticker where a return address was usually written and the address of the Seattle Times was written in block letters with a permanent marker. Inside was a one page plain paper written on a word processor and printed by a common laser printer. The content of the letter was plain and simple giving very little information of his state of mind. It said:

Dear newspaper,

I’m writing to tell you how happy I am after my nice visit with the lady from Naches. Before her death, I think she felt some excitement in her last moment on earth.

My goal of ridding the old people who are just taking up space is proceeding according to plan. [You Mr. Brad Pratt of the ‘Batt Team’ we will meet soon] and as you can count, I’m not even half way there yet.

Spring is coming and new flowers will bloom and the old will give way to the new.

This is not my last mail to you. If you are thinking you can find out where I am by the postmark, think again. I’M NOT STUPID!

Going to sign off now and watch the news on TV. Hope you have a nice day Mr. Brad.

Abe Lincoln had his ways and I have mine. Bring your raincoat my smart guy.

Brad and team on a Sunday were in Seattle at the office discussing the letter. Billy said it was too simple that the start of each paragraph sent a message: MY GOAL THIS SPRING GOING TO ABERDEEN. The team agreed and now they knew where and when and they also knew the how and why, but they didn’t know who. Billy and his friends and the FBI could find no other clues except the flowers mentioned and somehow Billy felt that was important to remember. And as it turned out he was right on the button.

Spring begins around the latter part of March. Most people think it begins on the first of March as the weather turns warmer and the first growth of spring pokes its head out of the earth reaching for the sun. The dreary days of winter are over for the most part. Spring cleaning takes place; the lawn mowers are tuned up; leaves are raked; cars washed on the weekend; and people take on a new attitude of hope and energy for the coming months ahead. However, in Aberdeen such was not the case. The atmosphere was tense and nobody went anywhere without someone going with them. At night the streets were rolled up and mostly deserted with the exception of delivery trucks and government vehicles.

On March sixteenth Senior Killer John made his move. He was cleverly disguised as a fifty something government agent from Seattle, took his Marlin spike to an old lady’s house on the boarder of the city limits with Hoquiam. Some neighbors reported seeing the woman going house to house warning the occupants to be on the look out for the serial killer. Still others said they saw her only go in the old ladies house and back out in five minutes. Regardless, he came, he did and he left unseen leaving the team holding the bag. Brad was so upset he disappeared for two hours before returning calm and effective once more.

How could this happen, was the question held in a meeting in Seattle the next day. So simple, Brad thought. A government looking car with stolen plates; and a person with fake ID made the bureau look like fools. The killing was history and the media came down on the bureau with such a heavy weight that it would take a crane to lift the burden slammed on by the press. Brad knew Steve would be talking a tongue lashing from Washington. How is it possible to cover all the bases, he thought. He’s giving us time and place. We know what segment of society he is murdering. So simple, but yet so clever; now we must determine what he will be his disguise in Anacortes.

Brad surprised all of them when he told them that he and Sujin would return to home for a few days while he took the time to think about the case. Julie and Mike went with them. Billy stayed in Seattle along with Nancy. Billy took a trip up to Anacortes to visit Wendy and agent Jones on location to see what the town looked like. For two days he walked the streets of Anacortes and spent some time on the docks watching the boats while looking at his laptop. The flowers were on his mind and by god, he thought, the key to Anacortes is flowers. Billy went to every flower shop in town and cruised in his rental car visiting residential places looking for activities where flower lovers were preparing their spring beds.

Down on the coast of Oregon Brad spent a lot of time running and walking the beach with his dogs. Sujin was having some morning sickness these days so she stayed at home. Mike ran with Brad. They were more than friends and between the two of them brothers were more like it. Spring weather on the beach is usually windy, but days of sunshine broke through the showers. In March, nobody knows why, a period of calm descends on the coast and the temps reach mid-seventies and the weather bring out the locals in droves to enjoy the beach. Rollers instead of breakers gracefully spill upon the beach in a quiet way. It was a quiet day when Brad and Mike along with the rare appearance on the beach of Sujin, found them next to a dune leaning on an old log playing in the sand with Sandy. Brad was stretched out soaking up the rare sun on his belly while Sujin laid her head on his back laying in the sand. Mike was sitting Indian style playing with a stick making pictures in the sand. Sandy tried to get Mike to play tug a war, but he was deep in thought about the case. He said, “Brad, have you got anything we can work with. I for one am so pissed I can’t see straight. Give me some terrorists and an M-16 and look out. Give me a serial killer who is nuts… But at least we know where he is going. Not that we can seem to do anything about it and I for one would like to play the role of a senior and maybe he would chose me as a victim.”

“Not a bad thought,” said Brad “How about we expand on that idea. What if you were seen around town, at the senior center or some such place? You have just arrived from California and lonely as hell. You’re begging for company and invite people over to your small house that is off the beaten track. You have a flower garden as Billy says this guy has flowers on the brain. Your disguise could be made simple just enough to make you look old and slow. Damn, what do you guys think?”

Sujin had since raised herself to a sitting position and said, “I like it and what about you Mike?”

“It can’t hurt to try,” he said with a lot less confidence than before. “Hell, let’s do it,” he said with renewed enthusiasm. I need a beard, more wrinkles, eye glasses, and hair in my ears, a stoop when I walk, and a professional make-up artist to train me”

Brad said, playing with Sandy rolling around in the hot sand with her, “When are you leaving?” So it was decided Mike would leave soonest and a professional make-up artist would meet him in Seattle. He would spend a week or less in training and then up to Anacortes.