I-45 murders. They were still fresh in everybody’s memory.”
“Yeah, I suppose. But if you think about it, the cars in this case were found nowhere near I-45. Plus, these women didn’t exactly fit the mold of the ones along the interstate. I mean, as far as their backgrounds went.”
“Were you involved in any of those cases?” Murtaugh asked.
“Only after I moved to Harris County in the early eighties. I was still working in Chambers County in the seventies, when the first bodies were discovered. I guess I got involved in six, maybe seven after I moved over here. How ‘bout you?”
“I worked around ten or so, mostly helping out with local guys in the communities where they happened.” Murtaugh took a second to peer through the window. “That was a miserable time. And you know, for a long time, no one knew just how bad it really was.”
Scallion let his mind drift back to the crimes Murtaugh referred to, a series of murders, rapes, and missing young women unparalleled in Texas history. They were tabbed as the I- 45 murders because they occurred along or near the stretch of interstate highway starting just north of Galveston, and passing through Houston, a distance of some fifty miles. The crimes took place over two decades, beginning in 1971, then finally dwindled when similar events occurring in the late eighties seemed to be unrelated. The victim count was never actually known, since there were certainly women whose disappearances were not reported. Some were prostitutes, shadowy figures while alive, then swallowed up by the evil that stalked them. But overall, the numbers were thought to be in the dozens.
At first, with the rapes and murders spread among several municipalities, the various jurisdictions investigated only those in their area. So if a serial killer was at work, it was an unknown fact, since no one bothered to share notes. Finally, in the eighties, when it began to grow obvious there was a regional problem, a task force was formed to coordinate the many different crimes and disappearances. The result was the unsettling conclusion there were several serial killers at work, rather than one. Very few arrests were actually made, and few cases solved.
It wasn’t until the late nineties, when network shows such as 20/20 , and Dateline began putting a spotlight on the Houston area crimes that the rest of the country was made aware of the scope of the so-called “Killing Fields”.
Scallion shook the thoughts of the past from his brain, concentrating again on the well-worn map. He repeated out-loud what little information was known. “The only common thing existing between the women was the fact they were all reported missing within a span of a few days; the Juarez girl almost a week later, since she had no family or close friends to notice her absence. But other than that...”
Murtaugh stood and leaned over the map. He placed four photographs he had pulled from the file flat on the poster. “One other thing,” he said, “They were all attractive women, at least according to these pictures.”
“Yeah. That should’ve meant something.” But it hadn’t, so far.
There were, in fact, two clues. Unfortunately, they were clues which led to an impossible number of scenarios. First, the vehicle belonging to Laura French, a 1989 Honda Civic, was found in the parking lot of a local hardware store in Waller, Texas, slightly more than forty miles from Houston. Like the three other abandoned cars, it had been discovered early in the morning, left during the night by unknown parties. Investigators had recorded the fact that an oil change sticker in an upper corner of the windshield indicated a recent lube job. Contacting the quick- change shop listed on the sticker, they verified French had visited the shop during her lunch hour the day before her car was found. The shop manager also stated that standard procedure was to list on the sticker when the next change was due – 3,000 miles later in her
“Yeah, I suppose. But if you think about it, the cars in this case were found nowhere near I-45. Plus, these women didn’t exactly fit the mold of the ones along the interstate. I mean, as far as their backgrounds went.”
“Were you involved in any of those cases?” Murtaugh asked.
“Only after I moved to Harris County in the early eighties. I was still working in Chambers County in the seventies, when the first bodies were discovered. I guess I got involved in six, maybe seven after I moved over here. How ‘bout you?”
“I worked around ten or so, mostly helping out with local guys in the communities where they happened.” Murtaugh took a second to peer through the window. “That was a miserable time. And you know, for a long time, no one knew just how bad it really was.”
Scallion let his mind drift back to the crimes Murtaugh referred to, a series of murders, rapes, and missing young women unparalleled in Texas history. They were tabbed as the I- 45 murders because they occurred along or near the stretch of interstate highway starting just north of Galveston, and passing through Houston, a distance of some fifty miles. The crimes took place over two decades, beginning in 1971, then finally dwindled when similar events occurring in the late eighties seemed to be unrelated. The victim count was never actually known, since there were certainly women whose disappearances were not reported. Some were prostitutes, shadowy figures while alive, then swallowed up by the evil that stalked them. But overall, the numbers were thought to be in the dozens.
At first, with the rapes and murders spread among several municipalities, the various jurisdictions investigated only those in their area. So if a serial killer was at work, it was an unknown fact, since no one bothered to share notes. Finally, in the eighties, when it began to grow obvious there was a regional problem, a task force was formed to coordinate the many different crimes and disappearances. The result was the unsettling conclusion there were several serial killers at work, rather than one. Very few arrests were actually made, and few cases solved.
It wasn’t until the late nineties, when network shows such as 20/20 , and Dateline began putting a spotlight on the Houston area crimes that the rest of the country was made aware of the scope of the so-called “Killing Fields”.
Scallion shook the thoughts of the past from his brain, concentrating again on the well-worn map. He repeated out-loud what little information was known. “The only common thing existing between the women was the fact they were all reported missing within a span of a few days; the Juarez girl almost a week later, since she had no family or close friends to notice her absence. But other than that...”
Murtaugh stood and leaned over the map. He placed four photographs he had pulled from the file flat on the poster. “One other thing,” he said, “They were all attractive women, at least according to these pictures.”
“Yeah. That should’ve meant something.” But it hadn’t, so far.
There were, in fact, two clues. Unfortunately, they were clues which led to an impossible number of scenarios. First, the vehicle belonging to Laura French, a 1989 Honda Civic, was found in the parking lot of a local hardware store in Waller, Texas, slightly more than forty miles from Houston. Like the three other abandoned cars, it had been discovered early in the morning, left during the night by unknown parties. Investigators had recorded the fact that an oil change sticker in an upper corner of the windshield indicated a recent lube job. Contacting the quick- change shop listed on the sticker, they verified French had visited the shop during her lunch hour the day before her car was found. The shop manager also stated that standard procedure was to list on the sticker when the next change was due – 3,000 miles later in her
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