The Evil That Men Do Part 17

"Mike was everything I ever thought I could ever want," she says. "But two days after we got married he started physically abusing me. I didn't tell anyone for quite some time because I was so ashamed."

In the eighteen months they were together, Joyce estimates that Mike physically abused her eight times or more. He never left marks, and never s.e.xually a.s.saulted her.

"He would terrorize me," she says. "Lock me in my room and not let me out. Pin me down. I remember one time he pinned me on the bed and held a pair of scissors over me like he was really going to stab me."

Once at a movie, "Somebody was killing somebody on the screen, and was putting his arm around the guy's neck. Mike looked at me and said, 'It only takes a second.' The way he said it just gave me the creeps."

Overdrafts on her personal checking account soon began to appear. Joyce attributed them to confusion at the bank. Several months later, however, the manager of the bank where she kept her corporate account informed Mrs. Jones that Mike had kited seven thousand dollars' worth of checks on that account. Joyce paid the amount due, went home, and ordered her husband of six months out of the house.

Mike left, but was back shortly. "He played on my sympathy," says Joyce.

And her fortune.

Like many people who routinely receive credit card solicitations through the mail, Joyce dumped the unwanted offers in the trash. Mike would retrieve the applications, fill them out, and have the new plastic mailed to a post office box he maintained. Then he'd max out each card before moving on to a new one.

Roy in 1993-After sixteen years with the BSU, Hazelwood's casebook included more than 10,000 deviant a.s.saults, murders, and other crimes.

Roy Hazelwood From hot rods to the military police-Roy as a Texas teenager (above), a second lieutenant at Ft. Rucker in Alabama (below), and in Vietnam (right).

Roy Hazelwood The BSU in 1978-Front row: Roy is at far left, John Douglas at far right. Second row, far left, is Roger Depue. Next to him is d.i.c.k Ault. Third from left (partially hidden) is Bob Ressler.

FBI photo Harvey Glatman, the Lonely Hearts Killer-A prototypical modern s.e.xual criminal, Glatman in the 1960s was a dark mystery to Roy and everyone else in law enforcement.

UPI/Corbis-Bettmann Fear-Glatman's victims believed he was photographing them for detective magazine covers.

Pierce Brooks s.e.xual bondage-The Lonely Hearts Killer took painstaking care with his ropes and knots.

Pierce Brooks Death in the desert-After securing the women, Glatman strangled them. Later he led investigators to their bodies.

Pierce Brooks Macabre victims-Roy's study of aberrant behavior began with a fellows.h.i.+p to the Armed Forces Inst.i.tute of Pathology. The cutting and stabbing syllabus he wrote there included this bizarre suicide by ballpoint pen.

Roy Hazelwood Dangerous solo s.e.x-Roy's first project at the FBI's Behavioral Science Unit was his unique, comprehensive study of autoerotic fatalities.

Roy Hazelwood Jon Barry Simonis in custody-Roy and fellow profiler Ken Lanning spent nine hours debriefing the Ski Mask Rapist inside Louisiana's Angola Prison.

UPI/Corbis-Bettmann Nikia Gilbreath-Her murder stumped investigators for nearly four months.

John C. Ba.s.s A close-knit family-Nikia with her father and walking her daughter, Amber, with her mother-in-law.

John c. Ba.s.s The d.a.m.ning evidence-Investigators discovered approximately $3,000 worth of plastic-bagged lingerie inside Ray Ward's partially built house, as well as part of Nikia's swimming suit and the Gilbreaths' missing comforter.

John C. Ba.s.s Bob Rhoades as a s.e.x slave-A cla.s.s s.e.xual s.a.d.i.s.t, Rhoades tried gradually to destroy Debra Davis.

Debra Davis Debra Davis then and now-"Roy gave me the courage to take control of my life," she says.

Karla h.o.m.olka-Although she was implicated in Paul Bernardo's murders and s.e.xual a.s.saults, the Canadian authorities agreed with Roy that Karla was a victim, too. Her dark "racc.o.o.n eyes" were caused by Bernardo's blows to her head.

About a year into their marriage, Joyce went searching in the bas.e.m.e.nt for some old tax return doc.u.ments. As she worked her way through the acc.u.mulated papers, she discovered that Mike had filed for unemployment benefits the month they were married, and also had filled out a bogus automobile accident report.

Now genuinely alarmed, she hired two private investigators to look into her husband's past. They found that Mike had not gone to college. The security clearance was a fake. He'd operated at various times under two or three Social Security numbers, and four different birthdays. Mike's mother later told Joyce that her son's military experience was confined to the National Guard.

The PIs also turned up Mike's rap sheet. It went back more than a decade, and included guilty pleas for forgery, receiving stolen property, theft of services, and theft by deception. Mike had done two years in prison.

Frightened and confused, Joyce tried not to betray what she'd learned as she considered what to do about it. However, Mike must have sensed something.

On a vacation cruise some weeks later, he got drunk and began slamming her against their cabin wall.

He told Joyce that with a phone call he could empty her house of its possessions that night. Then, coldly, he added: "I will destroy you, starting with your family. Nothing will happen to you because I want you to stand by and watch."

She was resolved to file for divorce the next morning, but delayed doing so in order to attend, with Jones, a religious pageant that her brother had organized.

Mike capitalized on the moment. "G.o.d spoke to me here like he never has before," Mike told Joyce. "I'm going to change."

He didn't.

Over the holidays he was arrested on a drunk driving charge. Back home, he a.s.saulted Joyce, tearing her sweats.h.i.+rt in the process. She filed a report with the police that night, and Jones was taken off to jail.

Joyce finally filed for divorce in the spring. She last saw her husband when he came by to pick up some tools. Her Dad died in early June.

McIntyre's family soon discerned that, despite a.s.surances to the contrary, the authorities dismissed out of hand their murder theory of the case.

The first autopsy seemed to confirm the official point of view. The local medical examiner, a forensic pathologist, discovered minor abrasions on the backs of both Andrew McIntyre's hands, as well as small bruises on his right shoulder and upper right arm.

While the marks could have been defensive injuries, the ME found the weight of the forensic evidence-including ligature abrasions on the victim's neck-was consistent with suicide.

McIntyre's children paid for a second autopsy, also conducted by a forensic pathologist, who was less dismissive of their father's unexplained injuries.

"I fully agree with you," the doctor wrote Joyce, "that there are many troubling factors concerning your father's death which could lead an objective observer to question if he died as a result of suicide."

Neither autopsy addressed the victim's time of death. However, McIntyre's bedside medicine dispenser had a single tablet left in it, a pill he was to have taken at 9:00 p.m. Since he definitely was still alive at about 8:00 p.m. (when he made his strange telephone call to Mabel Lowe), whatever impulse or incident had led to his death apparently occurred between 8:00 and 9:00.

Two months after his death, one of his granddaughters. .h.i.t on an idea. She lived in eastern Virginia with her husband, and was aware via the local media that Roy Hazelwood, late of the FBI, also resided in the area. In fact, her family and the Hazelwoods attended the same church.

One Sunday in August 1996, she approached Roy after services and explained the McIntyre family's dilemma.

Would he review her grandfather's death?

Roy said he would look into it.

A couple of weeks later, Carla came to Virginia and laid out for Roy everything the McIntyres knew. Unable to resist such a mystery, Hazelwood agreed to undertake an equivocal death a.n.a.lysis for the family, cost-free.

After conducting his survey and reviewing all available investigative records-the local police gave Hazelwood a one-page single-s.p.a.ced "Incident Data Sheet," but the medical examiner refused to share Andrew McIntyre's autopsy photos-Roy constructed two detailed lists, one of factors consistent with suicide, and another of factors consistent with homicide.

Those elements that supported a conclusion of suicide included first of all the manner of death. "Hanging," Roy wrote, "is a highly lethal and frequently observed means of suicide."

There was also no evidence of a struggle anywhere in the house or garage, nor were there any scratch marks on McIntyre's neck to indicate he had resisted the noose. Roy also agreed with the police that the tidiness with which his shoes (and gla.s.ses) had been placed by the box in the garage was consistent with suicide.

There was no evidence McIntyre had been bound, drugged, or incapacitated in any way, and there was no evidence of an a.s.sociated crime, such as robbery or burglary.

McIntyre had said recently he wished he could die, although he apparently was only temporarily despondent over his sickness.

The strange call to Mabel Lowe at 8:00 p.m. could be interpreted not as a veiled plea for help, but as a farewell. Suicides often say good-bye in such ways.

Two days before his death, McIntyre also had written to a female member of his church, apologizing for something he'd said to her in a parking lot "some time ago." He informed the woman that he'd sought G.o.d's forgiveness for what he'd said.

The old gentleman was highly sensitive to other people's feelings. If he was contemplating suicide, Roy knew it would be in character for him to attempt some sort of closure over the perceived personal offense.

Finally, Andrew McIntyre cleaned his house and did his laundry the afternoon before his death. This again is behavior consistent with suicide. However, as Roy noted in his list, the victim also normally performed these ch.o.r.es, and had put them off for some time because of his illness.

On the other side of the question, homicide, Roy found much to consider.

To begin with, there were the unexplained scratches and bruises on McIntyre's hands and body. While not conclusive proof he had struggled with his killer, the marks were consistent with an attempt to defend himself. In a forty-five-minute telephone conversation, the pathologist hired by McIntyre's family told Roy he could not rule out the possibility that the victim's injuries were defensive injuries.

There was no suicide note. Although such notes are not typical, or even common, Andrew McIntyre's children did not believe their father would take his leave in such a way without explanation.

He was experiencing no special stresses at the time of his death, save for what appeared to be a minor misstatement of some sort to the woman in the parking lot.

He had been ill, and despondent about it. But at the time of his death, he was physically improved and feeling better. His doctor reported McIntyre was suffering no other medical problems.

"People contemplating suicide typically do not make plans for the future," Roy noted. Then Hazelwood listed all the forward-looking actions Andrew McIntyre had taken, from accepting an invitation to his granddaughter's wedding to recently spading his garden, readying the earth for planting. He also had ordered prescription refills, and groceries in bulk amounts. Never one to waste or overspend, Andrew McIntyre had thirty boxes of breakfast cereal on hand at the time of his death.

"The preponderance of the behavioral evidence indicates that if Mr. McIntyre killed himself, it was a highly impulsive act," Roy wrote. "Mr. McIntyre was not reported to be an impulsive person."

What was more, the means of death-a ligature looped over three rafters and a stepladder-were inconsistent with impulsiveness. If Andrew McIntyre had decided suddenly to kill himself, his abundant supply of pills would have been a much more likely means.

Suicides typically telegraph their intent, either directly ("I ought to kill myself") or indirectly ("I can understand why someone would kill himself"). As far as was known, McIntyre made no such statements.

He was a religious man, who centered his life on his church and Bible. McIntyre's faith made suicide a sin.

The garage door could be locked from the inside, but wasn't. "Suicides typically take steps to preclude interruption," Hazelwood observed.

"Mr. McIntyre was very conscientious with his dog," Roy added. "It is probable that had he intended to take his life, he would have arranged for the animal to be taken care of, or ensured that it was restricted to a room with food and water."

Finally, there was no history of suicide in the McIntyre family, nor had he ever been treated or medicated for mental problems. Nor was the date of his death of any particular significance in his life.

On balance, Roy concluded in his a.n.a.lysis, which later was forwarded to the local police by the McIntyres, "the circ.u.mstances of Mr. Andrew McIntyre's death appear to be more consistent with a finding of homicide than suicide."

His daughter Joyce has one theory how such a murder could have occurred.

"My father would have let Mike in the house," she says. "All he would have to say is that he thought he'd left some tools in the garage. Once they were out there, I believe that all Mike had to say was that he'd hurt me or other members of the family if my father didn't do exactly as he told him."

In his report, Hazelwood politely suggested that "further investigation of Mr. McIntyre's death is justified to more definitely eliminate the possibility of homicide. This opinion is based upon Mr. Hazelwood's education, experience and consultation on similar cases."

No further investigation was conducted. Andrew McIntyre's official cause of death remains suicide.

In a postscript to her disastrous third marriage, Joyce McIntyre received a bill for approximately eight thousand dollars from the Internal Revenue Service, which claims Mike Jones filed no tax return the year they were married.

She's still arguing with the IRS over the back-tax a.s.sessment. If she loses, she reckons her ex-husband will have bilked her out of forty thousand dollars or more.

A month after receiving the IRS's unpleasant news, Joyce heard from the state police. A body had been found, the trooper told her. He said he had been contacted by a young flight attendant who had been dating her ex-husband, and who believed the dead man could be Mike Jones. Would the former Mrs. Jones care to talk to the woman?

No.

Then a second woman contacted Joyce. Identifying herself as an attorney in a western state, she said she'd met Mike the previous autumn.

"How much did he take you for?" Joyce asked.

"About fifteen thousand dollars," answered the lawyer.

Joyce then called the flight attendant, who lived in the same general area. She said she had known of Andrew McIntyre's death, that she met Mike Jones very soon thereafter, and that she quickly found him living with her.

"She said she felt he was hiding out, like he was hiding from some people," Joyce recalls.

In time, the lawyer also learned of Andrew McIntyre's death, and called Joyce once again.

"I feel you have to know this," she said. "Mike used to tell me that the easiest way to kill somebody was to wrap a wire around their neck and jerk their head back."

Mike Jones next surfaced in a large southwestern city, leasing an apartment from a couple he'd met. He didn't have the full rent immediately, he explained to them, because he was paid quarterly. They accepted Jones's word that he would catch up on the rent as soon as his check came through.

Meantime, the ever-personable Jones attended a big Christmas party with his landlords, and met one of their friends at the affair, a flight attendant who'd flown in especially for the party.

As the couple later told the story to Joyce, her ex-husband went right to work.

"I'm thinking of driving to Mexico next week," he told the woman.

"If you do, stop by on your way," she said.

Here Joyce interrupted the report.

"Let me guess," she said. "He stopped by and never left?"

"That's right," came the reply.

Jones reportedly lived with this woman for about four months, long enough for his former landlords to start wondering about the back rent he owed them. They searched the apartment, discovered a name and telephone number for the lawyer, and through her found Joyce.

"They got scared after they heard about Dad and everything else Mike had done to me," Joyce recalls. "So the guy got on a plane and flew out to see the flight attendant. They were all good friends and he didn't want anything to happen to her.

"He said he told Mike, 'Pack your bag, you're coming with me. You owe us money.' "

About that time, the flight attendant received a call from a bank asking if she authorized a five-hundred-dollar charge against her card.

Joyce's most recent information, current as of late 1997, placed Jones with yet another female acquaintance he reportedly met in a bar there.

Apparently she loaned him fifteen hundred dollars, which he repaid with a bad check.