Casefile True Crime - Case 190: The Butcher Baker (Part 1)

Episode Date: September 25, 2021

[Part 1 of 2] During the 1970s and ’80s, a predator was stalking the streets of Anchorage, Alaska. By day, he was a respectable family man who ran his own business. But at night, he would prowl Anchorage’s infamous Tenderloin District, looking for vulnerable or destitute women... Narration – Anonymous Host Research & writing – Erin Munro and Milly Raso Creative direction – Milly Raso Production & music – Mike Migas Music – Andrew D.B. Joslyn For all credits and sources please visit https://casefilepodcast.com/case-190-the-butcher-baker-part-1

Have you ever tried BBQ on BBQ? Picture this. Freshly prepared crispy seasoned chicken that's tossed in a smoky BBQ glaze and topped with a creamy BBQ sauce. Can't picture it? Well you can try it now at Tim's. Get our new BBQ crispy chicken loaded bowls and wraps for a limited time. Our episodes deal with serious and often distressing incidents. If you feel at any time you need support, please contact your local crisis centre. For suggested phone numbers for confidential support, please see the show notes for this episode on your app or on our website. Please note that the names of several individuals mentioned in this episode have been changed. Fiona Kennedy brought her car to a stop before the red light. It was Monday, November 15, 1971, and the 18 year old was enjoying a day off from work. After spending the morning shopping, Fiona was heading home along Northern Lights Boulevard, a main thoroughfare in the Alaskan city of Anchorage. As she waited at the traffic lights, Fiona casually scanned her surroundings and happened to lock eyes with the driver of the car next to hers. He was an unremarkable white man aged in his 30s with short hair hidden under a fluorescent orange baseball cap. A large pair of thick rimmed eyeglasses framed his cold stare. In an effort to break the awkward exchange, Fiona smiled at the man, then focused her attention back on the road ahead.

The light turned green and Fiona took off, thinking little of the meaningless though somewhat uncomfortable interaction. Around 10 minutes later, Fiona arrived at her apartment complex on Lowest Drive. After carrying her shopping up the two flights of stairs to her place, she started to run a bath. All of a sudden, there was a knock at her front door. Fiona wrapped her naked body in a towel and went to answer it. Standing before her was the man from the stoplight. Up close, Fiona could see his pockmarked face permanently scarred from a bout of severe acne. The man explained that he was looking for someone who lived in the complex.

Noticing a phone book on a table just inside Fiona's apartment, he asked if he could come in and look at it for a second. Fiona agreed, and the man absentmindedly flipped through the pages, remarking that the number he was looking for must have been unlisted. Then he started making small talk. He said he was new in Anchorage, didn't know many people, and asked if Fiona would like to go on a date with him. No thanks, she replied, explaining that she was engaged. The man left soon after. One week later, Fiona woke early to drive some friends to work. At 5.15am, she wandered down to her car and took off.

It was still dark when Fiona returned home a short while later. For a brief moment, her car's headlights illuminated a man in a fluorescent orange cap as he darted behind a neighbouring property out of sight. Fiona parked in the carport, and upon stepping out of her vehicle, came face to face with the barrel of a revolver. Holding tightly onto its grip was the man she had smiled at a week earlier at the stoplight. He threatened to shoot Fiona if she made a sound. Unable to contain her fear, Fiona let out a scream. The man pushed his gun into her back and again threatened her to stay quiet. We're going someplace we can be alone, he revealed, as he led Fiona towards the street.

Suddenly, he was stopped in his tracks by the sound of a police siren. It had started in the distance, but was getting louder with each passing second. Fiona's scream had woken her roommates who ran to a window, saw her being held at gunpoint, and called 9-1-1. As police sped to the scene, the man lowered his weapon and walked off into the darkness. Fiona's gun wielding abductor Lowest Drive became a hive of police activity, as officers scoured the area for Fiona's gun-wielding abductor. Sometime after 7am, a squad car pulled up out the front of Fiona's apartment. She approached the vehicle and peered through a window into the back seat.

That's him, she confirmed. Her abductor had been found walking the street close by and was charged with assault with a deadly weapon. He maintained that he had no recollection of the event. In a pretrial bail hearing, counsel for the defense successfully depicted their client as a hard-working and well-respected church-going family man. He was released on $2,000 bail pending a trial that was scheduled to begin in January the following year. But by late December, the man was prowling the streets of Anchorage once again, looking for his next target. In the early morning hours of Sunday December 19, Gemma Gibbs rushed across a parking lot and into the warmth of a nearby cafe. The 18-year-old was in desperate need of a hot drink to ward off Anchorage's icy winter.

After ordering a tea, Gemma headed back outside to start the heater in her car so it would be toasty for the drive home. While doing so, she saw a silver blue Pontiac pull into a neighboring parking spot. A man emerged from the vehicle, but she paid him little attention. Once her car heater was blasting, Gemma returned to the cafe to collect her order. The male driver of the Pontiac was standing by the cafe door as if waiting for her. When Gemma approached, he blocked her path and attempted to start a conversation. It seemed like he was going to ask her something, but a stutter got the better of him and he struggled to form the words. Gemma tried to push past him, but froze when he pulled out a gun from underneath his coat.

Don't scream, he warned as he forced her into his Pontiac. A passing car's headlights cut through the early morning darkness and swept over her abductor, illuminating his pockmarked face and large eyeglasses. He drove Gemma south along the Seward Highway, where the city streets gave way to snowy fields, forested hills and rugged mountain ranges. Bound by her wrists and ankles with leather shoelaces, Gemma endured a 100-mile long drive, during which she was periodically assaulted and eventually raped. She was relieved when her captor started the long journey back to Anchorage, only for him to perform a U-turn and continue heading south. Why are we going this way? Gemma asked. Her captor told her of a cabin he had taken a woman to a week prior. That's where they were going now. He drove to the expansive Cooper Lake region and turned down a secluded ancillary road that curled up a mountain.

They got a fair way up, only to discover that heavy snowfall blanketed the road ahead, making it impossible to proceed any further. Irritated, the man turned the car around. During the descent, Gemma noticed her captor eyeing the cliffside that boarded the road. She sensed he was twinging with the idea of shooting her, then throwing her into the ravine. As described in the book Fair Game by Bernard Duclos, the man abruptly hit the brakes and forced Gemma out of the car. Cocking his gun, he ordered her to start running. Gemma knew what the man would do the moment she turned her back to flee and told him she wasn't going to run, no matter what. Instead, she faced him and began begging for her life, saying everything she could think of to make him reconsider.

She complimented him, suggesting that they'd date and told him about her baby son. Promising she wouldn't go to the police, she offered him her name and address and that of her parents as insurance that she would keep her word. And just like that, her ordeal was over. Gemma was led back to the Pontiac. There were no more stops, just threats to ensure her compliance. By 2pm, she was returned to Anchorage, having been left a block from where her car was parked. Gemma kept her promise and didn't speak a word of her ordeal to the police. Days later, on December 23, Celia Van Zanten, known to friends and family as Beth, was hit by a thirst that only a soda could quench. It was 8.30pm and the nearby convenience store was due to close in half an hour.

Beth pulled on her green, down-filled parka and rubber-soled hiking boots. Then headed out into the winter chill. It was only a short walk from her Kinnick Avenue home to the shops on Northern Lights Boulevard. Yet, Beth never returned. On Christmas Day, a nature photographer was attempting to take the perfect picture of a waterfall in the McHugh Creek Recreation Area. South of Anchorage. As he edged closer to the water, he noticed what appeared to be a mannequin halfway up the ravine. It was positioned at an odd angle and partially covered with snow.

Except, it wasn't a mannequin. It was the body of a young woman. Police identified her as 18-year-old Beth Van Zanten, who had vanished from downtown Anchorage two days earlier. Beth's hands were tied behind her back with speaker wire and a gag had been placed over her mouth. Naked from the waist down, she had been sexually assaulted. And had sustained a slash across her chest from a knife used to cut open her bra. 50 or so feet above where Beth was found was a parking area. It was believed that she had either fled from her attacker into the ravine, or that he thought she had been killed.

Stripped of her jacket and boots, Beth had faced temperatures as low as minus five degrees Fahrenheit in the days she was missing. At that time of year, Anchorage was plunged into a long darkness with less than six hours of light expected per day. Straining to trudge bound and barefoot through three feet of snow, back up the darkened slope, Beth eventually succumbed to the harsh elements and froze to death. In the darkened slope, Beth was found lying on the ground. She was found lying on the ground. In the darkened slope, Beth was found lying on the ground. She was found dead.

News of what happened to Beth Van Zanten rattled fellow Anchorage teen Gemma Gibbs. She was certain that the man who had abducted and raped her at gunpoint was also responsible for Beth's death. In order to secure her freedom, Gemma had promised never to tell the police what had happened to her. Now she realized that her silence might have enabled her attacker to assault and murder someone else. Compelled by guilt, Gemma went to the authorities and identified her assailant. It was the same man who had attempted to abduct Fiona Kennedy from her lowest drive apartment in November. Now he faced felony charges for two separate crimes, the second he committed while on bail for the first. Yet he managed to secure a deal.

He pleaded no contest to the charge of assault with a deadly weapon against Fiona. In exchange, charges relating to the abduction and rape of Gemma were dropped. From the prosecution's perspective, there just wasn't enough evidence in that case to secure a conviction. In his sentencing remarks, the judge told the man, I believe you have a serious illness that makes you extremely dangerous. But then he sentenced him to just five years in prison and added, I recommend work release for you as soon as possible so you can pursue your employment and support your family. A model prisoner, the man was released after serving only three months behind bars.

When speaking of the outcome, Gemma Gibbs remarked, It was like you're not only raped by the perpetrator, but again by the court. Although there was reasonable suspicion to believe that the same man was involved in the abduction, rape and death of Beth Vanzantin, there was no evidence to support the allegation and that case went cold. Upon his release from prison, the man returned to Anchorage, a city big and busy enough to forget his transgressions. He continued living a normal life while those aware of his history took it with a grain of salt, as the crimes didn't align with the man they knew personally. He remained married, had a second child, moved into a large house, owned three vehicles and started a successful business.

For him, it was as though nothing ever happened, but he never changed. In the year after making parole, he lured a 16-year-old girl into his car and drove her around for hours, sexually assaulting her at gunpoint. He warned her not to go to the police or else he would, quote, hunt her down. She complied with his threat. His appetite for dominance and control continued to grow. His stalking grounds primarily encompassed the downtown Anchorage, specifically an area known as the Tenderloin District. Over the years, the construction of the 800-mile-long Trans-Alaska oil pipeline had led to transient laborers rushing to the city. Organized crime followed as drug dealers and dodgy nightclub operators sought to take advantage of the sudden influx of young men with disposable incomes.

They set up in the Tenderloin District and ran various bars, adult stores and strip clubs. Police were frequently called out to the area to deal with fights and robberies. The women who worked there were particularly vulnerable. Despite being married, the men would prowl the Tenderloin District looking for sex workers. One such occasion occurred in October 1975. He propositioned a dancer at the Kit Kat Club, showing her a wad of cash and asking to have some fun. She agreed. That night, he drove her to the Chugach State Park east of Anchorage and raped her at gunpoint.

He ultimately released her and, for personal reasons, she chose not to file charges. She did, however, give his vehicle's license plate number to a rape crisis center, which led to his identification. The case was handed over to the Alaska State Troopers, but without the survivor's assistance, their options were limited. A trooper did contact the man's parole officer to inform him of the incident. When confronted, the man admitted to being with the woman, but said her was only ever at date. Then she started demanding money that he refused to pay, which led her to, quote, get mad and holler rape. The parole officer wasn't convinced by his story, but there was nothing more he could do.

That was until April the following year. That month, the parole officer appeared in court to testify against the man after he was caught stealing a chainsaw from a superstore. The officer spoke at length about the abduction of the dancer from the Kit Kat Club, while highlighting the defendant's increasingly violent sexual behavior. He went so far as to doubt that the man would cooperate and respond to therapy now, and was of the opinion that he be locked up. Given the Kit Kat Club incident hadn't been verified by the legal process, the presiding judge decided not to take the parole officer's testimony into consideration. He did, however, listen intently when the defendant politely read out a statement to the court. He spoke of his wife and two children, saying they would be made to suffer if he was imprisoned, and he wanted to stay out of jail to support them. He concluded,

I want to live a life that's acceptable to society and to myself. After praising the man for speaking so eloquently, the judge sentenced him to five years. The man appealed this decision, and in a written opinion on the case submitted August 1978, the Supreme Court of Alaska said that prior to the chainsaw theft, the man had conducted his life in a normal manner. Quote, He has maintained steady employment, been a good provider, and has earned the reputation of a hard worker and a respectable member of the community. According to the book Fair Game, the defense sought the input of a psychologist, who concluded that their client was markedly disturbed, antisocial, paranoid by nature, and had a relatively weaker ego. In examining his past behaviors to the present day, it was noted that the man's personality had disintegrated to a highly psychotic level, or high schizophrenia scale, high manic scale, and high antisocial scale, with the psychologist adding, quote, There's some narcissism and a magical thinking involved in this also.

The defense scrapped this finding and sourced a second, more desirous opinion. This second doctor diagnosed their client as suffering a variant of a manic depressive disorder known as a bipolar effective disorder, wherein he had poor control over his impulses due to mood and energy upswings. His kleptomania was a result of this disorder. The doctor maintained that the man was responding well to therapy and medication, and felt there would be no more issues if he continued this routine. The appellate judges agreed that the defendant's antisocial behavior was a mental health issue that could be treated. They ordered him to be released on probation at the end of that month. Even though the courts were absolutely convinced that the man would commit additional crimes without the implementation of a medication and therapy regime, administrative blunders meant that he was returned to society without any court ordered guidelines, mandates, or supervision.

The following year on Sunday, October 14, 1979, the man sat alone at a club called Ambers in downtown Anchorage with beer in hand, watching a young woman dance on a nearby tabletop. Their eyes met and he asked if they could meet later. A stutter fragmented his words, but his intentions were clear the moment he pulled out a roll of money. The dancer, Judy Russell, accepted his offer. She'd be off in 20 minutes. We'll meet outside, he said. Look for a gold camper. Upon leaving Ambers, Judy spotted a gold-colored pickup truck parked nearby.

The vehicle, which had a camper attachment in its cargo bed, had seen better days. The man from the club was waiting for her. She followed him into the camper, where he pulled out a .357 Magnum revolver. Judy was forced to strip naked as her hands were bound with snare wire. She was threatened to keep quiet, but Judy screamed constantly. Dreading someone would hear her and contact police, the man leapt out of the camper and rushed to the front of his truck, throwing himself behind the wheel. He sped towards the Glen Highway, hoping to reach the expansive wilderness that framed the northern part of the city before authorities caught up. Little did he realize that behind him, Judy had escaped her restraints.

When he heard her pounding on the camper's walls, he started to panic. Slamming the brakes, he rushed around his truck to confront her, only to discover that Judy had locked the camper's doors. She quickly crawled into the cab of the truck and locked the doors there too, just as the man appeared outside the driver's side window. It was rolled partway down. The man reached in and grabbed desperately at the door's lock. Judy leant over and wound the window up, trapping his arm. Her sheer terror was matched by his unbridled fury. He smashed the window to free his arm, unlocked the door, grabbed Judy and pulled her bound and naked onto the ground.

Judy refused to give in. Scrambling to her feet, she broke out in a sprint. Her captor chased her for several blocks before he gave up and returned to his pickup. Lucky for him, Judy wasn't able to identify him to the police, so he got away with it. But that didn't stop him from trying again. Later that same month, he managed to reach the wilderness outside the city as planned. This time, his captive was a 16-year-old girl he had picked up outside a movie theater. He intended to rape her, but when she revealed that she was homeless and hadn't eaten for two days, he let her go.

This would be a rare and final moment of humanity. Later that fall, he wouldn't be so kind. Annie wandered downtown Anchorage in blue jeans, a sweater, a fur trimmed brown leather jacket and a pair of high-heeled red ankle boots. It was the fall of 1979, and although her ensemble helped ward off the crisp weather that befell Alaska that time of year, it also acted as a work uniform of sorts. Many of the young women employed in Anchorage's infamously rough Tenderloin District wore similar attire. It let male passers-by know that they were sex workers. Annie climbed into the gold pickup truck that was waiting nearby and settled into the passenger seat. Its driver was a white man of average height and build, with short brown hair and a pockmarked face.

He said he was going to take Annie to his home, and she agreed to this plan, until she realized they were heading away from the city towards the wilderness beyond. Nervously, Annie asked him to drive her back to Anchorage. He assured her that they were going to another safe location, but she didn't believe him. The atmosphere in the truck grew increasingly tense. As detailed in the book Fair Game, the man reassured Annie that he was only going to drive a little further. Well, I'm not, she snapped. The man suddenly pulled out a gun. You do exactly as I say, he warned, and you won't get hurt.

He turned off the Glen Highway and onto a Clutner Lake Road, a long scenic stretch named after the large body of water had frames. Then, he drove down one of the many secondary tracks that branched off the main road, heading deeper into the isolated surrounds. Seasonal rain, coupled with melted glacial runoff, had turned this alternate route into a muddy swamp. The wheels of his truck sunk into the sludge, until they couldn't move any further. There was a winch on the back of his vehicle that could haul them out, but he would need the help of his captive. The man convinced Annie to unravel the cable and sort things outside, while he remained behind the wheel. With great effort, the winch successfully pulled the pickup out of the mud trap. The man pressed his foot to the accelerator, and the vehicle lurched forward.

Stay put, he yelled at Annie, as he drove further down the road to look for a spot to turn around so he could collect her on the return. Realising this was her one chance at escape, Annie edged towards the surrounding woods before breaking out into a sprint. The man slammed the brakes, cut the engine, leapt from the truck, and took off after her. Annie's high heels slid into the mud, allowing him to close in quickly and grab her by the hair. In the ensuing scuffle, she managed to reach into her purse and pull out a large, black-handled buckknife. She swung it in his direction, but he pried it from her grasp before she was able to cause him any injury. Forcing Annie to the ground, the man overpowered and restrained her. She begged, don't kill me, don't kill me.

He responded calmly, that he wasn't going to kill her. In the following year of 1980, two power plant employees were carrying out works along Lake Eklutna Road. While concentrating on a power line, the pair noticed some disturbed earth nearby, a shallow grave. It contained a severely decomposed female body. Marks on her bones revealed that she had been viciously stabbed in the back. She was dressed in jeans, a brown leather fur-trimmed coat, and red high-heeled boots. An outfit that indicated to local police officers that the woman had likely been a sex worker from the nearby city of Anchorage. Identifying her through physical features alone was impossible due to the state of her remains.

An autopsy revealed that the victim was killed the previous year. She was 16 to 25 years old and between 4 foot 11 to 5 foot 3 inches tall. She was likely white, but possibly had Native American heritage, as suggested by some pieces of Native American-style jewellery scattered near her remains. It was unclear how exactly she'd ended up in the vicinity of Lake Eklutna. The area where she was found was so remote that it was only frequented by the power plant employees or the occasional hunter. Anchorage Police created a facial reconstruction profile of the murdered woman and printed it on posters that they plastered throughout the city. Yet, no one came forward to identify her. They dubbed their unknown victim after the place where she was discovered.

Eklutna Rani In May that same year, Joanna Messina was standing on the docks that overlooked the picturesque Seward Boat Harbour. Stretched out before her were the icy and clear glacial waters of Resurrection Bay, framed by the snow-capped mountains that define the southern coast of Alaska. Joanna was not alone. Keeping her company as always was her loyal and protective German Shepherd dog, who had travelled with her all the way from New York. Joanna was a nurse who had abruptly left her old life behind, hitching rides across the country until she wound up over the Canada-United States border and in the port city of Seward. Though only she knew the reasons behind her sudden move, it was suspected that Joanna sought to take up work in one of the state's many factories caning food. This plan didn't work out and Joanna took up sex work to make ends meet.

As she watched the water lapping the docks, the petite 24-year-old with thick, urban-coloured hair caught the eye of a nearby man. Joanna noticed his attention and flashed him a smile. The man approached her and initiated some friendly chit chat before asking if she would join him for dinner. Ever since she had arrived in Seward, Joanna had been doing it tough. She'd recently been kicked out of the boarding house where she had initially settled, causing her to pitch a tent at the state campgrounds. Homeless, broke and unemployed, she took the man up on his offer. The pair headed to a nearby restaurant where they continued their conversation. Everything was going well until Joanna, seemingly misreading her male companion's intentions, propositioned him, saying,

We could have a real nice time if you have any money. In an instant, the man's mood soured. He didn't realise Joanna was a sex worker and was irritated to think that their connection was strictly business. He masked his feelings and coked Joanna and her German shepherd into his gold camper pickup. The man drove north along the Seward Highway, which eventually reached the city of Anchorage, 127 miles away. He only got 13 miles out of Seward before pulling over by the Snow River. It was there, in the quiet shadows of spruce trees and jagged mountains, that an argument broke out between the pair. Joanna believed the man had taken her to a discrete location beyond the city lights to engage her services.

Now, he was seemingly backing out of the idea and Joanna, realising she'd travelled all this way for nothing, ordered him to take her back to Seward. His temper rising, the man ordered Joanna out of the cab and into the camper compartment of his pickup. As detailed in fair game, the man barked at Joanna, He is all your worth, before tossing $5 at her. He then launched himself at Joanna, who managed to fight him off and escape out into the cold dark. She ran, but he quickly caught up and hit her hard with a 22 magnum revolver. Joanna fell to the ground. Tears streamed down her face as her hands curled around her wounded head.

With fierce strength, she threw herself at her attacker, clawing and screaming at him. The man shot Joanna twice, killing her. He then rummaged through her belongings, mostly camping gear, and wrapped her in a sleeping bag. Dragging the body to a nearby gravel pit, he let it roll into the crevice before pushing in some sand and rocks to conceal it. As he returned to his truck, the man realized Joanna's German shepherd was still inside. He shot the dog to ensure it wouldn't lead anyone to its owner's remains. Then he dumped its body and Joanna's belongings in the woodland adjacent to where Joanna lay covered in the pit. Before returning to Anchorage, he threw his revolver into the Snow River.

Joanna Messina's body was found two months later by unsuspecting highway maintenance workers. She was still wrapped in her sleeping bag, which had since become moldy. Two 22 caliber bullets were retrieved from her remains. More than a year later on Monday, November 16, 1981, Sherry Morrow was bidding her boyfriend farewell. It was 11.30pm and he had just dropped Sherry off at work. For the past three years, the 23-year-old had been working as a topless dancer at various clubs throughout Anchorage's Tenderloin district. That night, she had a shift at the Wild Sherry on East Fourth Avenue. At some point during the night, the five-foot-six, blonde-haired and blue-eyed Sherry caught the eye of a male patron.

After work, Sherry went to her friend Lisa's house. She spoke of having met a male photographer at the Wild Sherry, who had offered to pay her $300 to pose nude for a photo shoot. As Sherry was quiet and shy, it didn't seem like the kind of thing she would want to do. But, Lisa knew her friend was also lonely and somewhat gullible. Lisa warned that only jerks visited the clubs, but this didn't dissuade Sherry from agreeing to do the photo shoot. The next morning, Sherry pulled on her baby blue-colored ski jacket over her sweater and a pair of dark blue moon boots over her jeans. Then she headed to a cafe several blocks from her workplace, where she had planned to meet the photographer. Not long after she had arrived there, a frightened Sherry was blindfolded and handcuffed in the photographer's car.

He drove north along the Glen Highway, towards the sprawling Alaskan wilderness. Later that day, Sherry failed to show up to a doctor's appointment. Concerned, her boyfriend Dale retraced her last known movements. All of Sherry's belongings were still at her apartment. The only thing missing was a gold necklace with an arrowhead pendant that she always wore. Dale's search led to Lisa's house, where he was told about Sherry's plans to meet with the photographer. After failing to find Sherry, Dale informed Anchorage Police of her disappearance, but his worries fell on deaf ears. Police were aware that young women who worked in the Tenderloin District never really settled in the city and were known to move elsewhere without notice.

But Sherry had been looking forward to getting married and building her life in Anchorage. There was no discernible reason why she would abruptly and secretly relocate, essentially giving up on her dreams and relationship. Despite the police believing Sherry would reappear eventually, Dale remained worried. He visited the Anchorage Police Department almost weekly, begging officers to look for her. Gripping their firearms, John Daly and Doughty Holloway eyed their surroundings as the chilled waters of the Kinnick River flowed alongside them. The pair cut lonely figures against the glacial outcrops, snow-capped mountains, and dense forests of spruce and aspen. The lush green trees were in the process of changing to a vibrant shade of golden yellow, reflecting the onset of fall. It was Sunday, September 12, 1982, and John and Doughty were on the hunt.

Escaping to the great outdoors was a welcome respite for John and Doughty. Both men were police officers stationed in the nearby city of Anchorage. Exploring the Kinnick River Valley about an hour's drive northeast was a much-needed change of scenery from their busy day-to-day lives. John and Doughty were avid trophy hunters and knew the valley well. That weekend they were hunting moose in a location so remote it was only accessible by off-road vehicles, boats, or planes. Trekking deep into the landscape was not easy, and its vastness meant it was rare to encounter any other people. John and Doughty weren't having much luck, and as the sun began to set over the horizon, the pair called it a day. They headed back towards their camp by cutting across a wide and long grey-pebbled sandbar that rose from the Kinnick River.

It was there that both men caught sight of a dark blue moon boot sticking out of the ground. Not far from the boot was a partially buried baby blue nylon ski jacket. The off-duty officers moved in for a closer look. In between the two items of clothing was a bone joint. The officers were conscious that they might have stumbled across a crime scene and backed away to avoid disturbing it. Night had almost fallen, and it was too dark to head back to Anchorage for help. Instead, they noted their location two miles downriver from the new Glen Highway Bridge and returned to their campsite with the intention to seek assistance at first light. As soon as dawn broke, John and Doughty made their way to a cabin and called the Alaska State Troopers, who had jurisdiction over the Kinnick River Valley region.

Officers from the Criminal Investigations Bureau met the two men by the skeletal remains. In the light of day, it was clear that the pair had stumbled across the badly decomposed body of a young woman. Although she lay close to the ground surface, it was obvious that she had been buried in a shallow grave. Dental records revealed the victim was Sherry Murrow, who had gone missing from Anchorage nine months earlier. An elastic bandage was wrapped around her head and over her eyes, pinned in place with metal clips. She had been shot three times in the back, but there were no bullet holes in her clothes. The troopers suspected her killer or killers had shot her while she was naked, then redressed her body. Found among Sherry's remains was a single shell casing from a two-to-three-colour bullet, a type of ammunition for high-powered semi-automatic rifles often used to kill large game.

In the preceding months and years, the Tenderloin District became a black hole for many women who worked there. Dancers and sex workers alike were disappearing from the area without explanation. While the police brushed aside the concerns of their family and friends with the excuse that the women lived transient lifestyles, those who knew the women best suspected something was seriously amiss. Some of the missing worked at the same clubs, others were mothers who had left their young children behind. Nothing in any of their lives explained why the women would up and leave without getting in touch. 24-year-old Roxanne Eastland's roommate reported her missing in the first week of July 1980. Roxanne, who also went by the name Karen, had gone on a date with a man days earlier.

The pair had arranged to meet on Northern Lights Boulevard in downtown Anchorage. Roxanne never returned home. 41-year-old dancer Lisa Fertrell went to work at the Great Alaskan Bush Company Bar on the night of Saturday, September 6, 1980. Lisa, who carried a pistol in her purse for protection, vanished after her shift. Her roommates searched the Tenderloin District for her, but their questions rattled the local crime gangs, who warned that they might disappear too if their efforts brought police attention to the area. Undeterred, they reported Lisa as a missing person. 28-year-old Thai national Malay Larson was dancing to earn enough money to return home to Thailand.

She disappeared from Anchorage in June 1981. 23-year-old Andrea Altieri was incredibly close to her roommate and dancing colleague Royale. The pair spent almost every day of their two-year-long friendship together. So, when Andrea disappeared on December 2, 1981, Royale knew her friend, affectionately known as Fish, wouldn't just abandon her without a proper goodbye. Royale was aware that Andrea had gone to meet an older man that day, who had offered to take her on a shopping spree at the local mall. The disappearances continued into 1982.

Sue Luna's older sister, Bobby, had been highly protective of her ever since they were kids. She warned 22-year-old Sue of the growing danger to dancers in the Tenderloin District and wanted her to arm herself with a small firearm. But the gentle and soft-hearted Sue declined. As she was deathly afraid of guns. Sue was rusted on to work at the Good Times Bar the night of Monday, May 24. During her shift, a man approached Sue and introduced himself as a photographer. He asked her to participate in a shoot for the following day, offering her $300.

Sue accepted the job and was never seen again. 20-year-old Tammy Peterson didn't enjoy dancing in Anchorage. For Tammy, dancing was an art form and she preferred crafting choreographed routines and designing her own costumes. Anchorage's dancing scene was a lot sleazier than Tammy anticipated. Despite this, she persisted in making the city her home. On August 7, Tammy called her parents to talk about her relationship woes. The following week, she vanished without a trace. Her family flew to Anchorage and underwent a desperate, though futile, search.

22-year-old Teresa Watson, known by friends as Nicole, arrived in the city in January 1983. On Saturday, March 26, Nicole's roommate visited the police station and pushed to file a missing persons report. Nicole had been dropped off at a local restaurant the afternoon prior, where she had planned to meet a man. She had described him as real nice and said he had promised to pay her $300 if she'd have lunch and spend an hour with him. 24-year-old Angela Fadden was reported missing by the owner-operator of a bar called Murphy's Law. He hadn't seen Angela for three months when he contacted authorities on Wednesday, May 25. The pair last spoke in late February when Angela mentioned having met a doctor. She described him as very ugly, but noted that he carried a big role of money.

Angela, who also engaged in sex work, mentioned the doctor had offered her $300 for her services. Paula Goulding's last dance took place on Sunday, April 24, 1983 at the great Alaskan Bush Company. Although she was new to this line of work, the 30-year-old was very enthusiastic about it. After descending from the stage, she was approached by a man carrying a large roll of bills. The next morning, Paula waited for him at a local shopping mall where he had promised to spend several hundred dollars on her. According to the book Fair Game, he pulled up in his car shortly after noon and called Paula over. She climbed into the passenger seat and after a short drive, the man pulled into a deserted parking lot. Within seconds, Paula was being held at gunpoint as the man warned her.

Now, you'll do just what I say. I'm good at this. Done it lots of times before. Later that day, the pilot of a lightweight aircraft was soaring low over the Canick River when he caught sight of something below. It was a blue and white two-seater Super Cub airplane parked on a gravel sandbar. Making big, sweeping turns, the pilot circled above the Super Cub three times, looking out for any sign of life. It was not unusual to spotlight aircraft within the valley. Off-road ground vehicles tended to get stuck in the bush, so it was quicker and easier to fly in. On his third flyover, the pilot spotted a lone man standing by the Super Cub. The man looked up at the pilot and waved at him in a friendly manner.

In return, the pilot performed a wing dip, the flight equivalent of waving a hand. Thinking nothing more of the encounter, the pilot steered downriver and out of sight. As the sound of the plane's engine faded into the distance, the man on the ground breathed the sigh of relief. Grateful and lucky that it hadn't landed. Once the coast was clear, he reached into his Super Cub and pulled out his .223 caliber Ruger Mini-14 rifle. Then he headed back into a nearby patch of woodland where an old meat shack was tucked away. The abandoned building had once been used by hunters to store and hang game. But on this occasion, it contained Paula Goulding restrained to an iron pipe.

The man had taken to flying into the valley in his own personal airplane as opposed to fewer risks. Cars left tire tracks that led to his remote hunting ground and the graves of his victims. His plane took him directly to its center, getting him in and out without a trace. On each occasion, he'd take off from Merrill Field in Anchorage, a public use general aviation airport one mile east of downtown. He'd soar high above where any local air traffic control tower could identify him. Nestled in a small space behind his seat would be his handcuffed captive, unable to move. He'd fly northward into the depths of the Canick River Valley and bring the Super Cub down on the wide, flat sandbar that acted as a runway. Once it came to a stop, he'd retrieve his frightened captive.

She was confronted with the vast, foreign landscape around her. The expansive gravel sandbar, the meandering river, the distant mountains, and the patches of dense woodland. Hidden among the trees was the old meat shack. Friday, September 2, 1983 marked the beginning of the Labor Day weekend and two teenagers were spending the holiday moose hunting in the Canick River Valley. It was approaching 1pm when the pair passed a derelict meat shack in the woods before emerging along the river. As they made their way across a large sandbar, they spotted human bones nestled in the earth. Authorities descended on the area. The bones were found along the same sandbar where Sherry Morrow's remains were discovered almost a year earlier.

Dental records confirmed that this newly recovered body was 30-year-old Paula Goulding. A dancer based in Anchorage, Paula had vanished four months earlier following a shift at the Great Alaskan Bush Company. She was still wearing the outfit she was last seen in, though it was in a state of disarray. Her jeans were unzipped and her sweater was torn in half down at the front, as was her bra. Paula had been shot in the back just as Sherry Morrow had been, the fatal bullet passing through her heart. Her clothes, like Sherry's, featured no bullet holes. Lying near her body was a spent .223 caliber shell casing. Ballistics confirmed that it had come from the same firearm as the bullet used to murder Sherry Morrow.

Both Sherry and Paula had worked in Anchorage's Tenderloin District, as had a Clutner Annie, the unidentified woman whose remains were found in 1980 near a Clutner Lake. The lake was reached via the Glen Highway, which led to the Kinnick River a little further north. Then there was Joanna Messina, whose bullet-riddled body was found south of Anchorage, near the Harbour City of Seward. She too engaged in sex work. Although Annie had been stabbed to death, and Joanna wasn't from Anchorage, the four crime scenes and victim profiles were far too similar for their murders to be mere coincidences. It was now abundantly clear that a serial killer was active in Anchorage, targeting vulnerable and sometimes destitute women. He appeared to choose this kind of victim as he knew the police would be less inclined to search for them. Pouring over missing persons reports from the Tenderloin District exposed the killer's pattern.

He'd meet his victim in a bar or on the street, luring her in with offers of work, money or gifts. Judging by the amount of women who had vanished under these circumstances in recent years, his kill count could already be in the double digits. In an effort to generate a suspect profile, Sergeant Glenn Flothe of the Alaska State Troopers reached out to one of the foremost authorities on serial murderers. The FBI's Behavioral Science Unit, also known as BSU. Established in the early 1970s following a sharp increase in sexual assaults and homicides, the BSU worked to understand the minds and behaviors of serial offenders. By doing so, they hoped they would be better equipped to apprehend criminals and prevent future crimes. As detailed in the book Butcher Baker by authors Walter Gilmore and Leland Hale, Flothe spoke with BSU agent Roy Hazelwood. Hazelwood, who had been at the centre of the unit since its inception, listened attentively as he was told about each crime scene, the victims and how they had been killed.

After pausing for a moment to reflect, Agent Hazelwood said the killer was most likely between the ages of 33 and 44. There was a chance he had a history of arson or shoplifting, maybe even both. He would be of above average intelligence, probably a well-known and respected member of the community, who might have ties to a local business. Someone you wouldn't look at twice. But beneath his apparent success would be a darker history. He'd experienced social rejection during his adolescence, low self-esteem, insecure with women, most likely spoke with a speech impediment. An avid outdoorsman, his use of isolated locations and high-powered weaponry indicated he was a hunter. This hobby appeared to play a major part in his crimes.

With each new victim, his kills had become less abrupt and more methodical. He went from carrying out quick and disorganised murders just outside of the city to taking his captives deep into the untamed wilderness, where he stripped them naked, had them run and then gunned them down as if they were his prey. Within the large amount of paperwork that had accumulated in the case was a sealed manila envelope. Tearing it open, Sergeant Glenn Flothey found a report inside. It had been put together by an officer Greg Baker of Anchorage PD's sexual assault unit and detailed a harrowing incident that occurred earlier that year. Robert Yount had an early start on the morning of Monday, June 13, 1983. By 5am, the 36-year-old truck driver was on the road in Anchorage, heading west along East Fifth Avenue between the Seward and Glenn Highways. He was passing Merrill Field when all of a sudden, a barefooted young woman raced out from the airport grounds and into the path of Robert's truck.

He hit the brakes as the woman spun to face his oncoming vehicle. She held her arms up in the air. Her wrists were handcuffed. Help me, she screamed. To be continued next week. Thank you for watching.