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sixofravens-reads · 2 months

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Finished The Stranger Beside Me last night!

Thoughts:

that is one HELL of a book, oh man. if you're into true crime, it's one of the definitive works of the genre, and I highly recommend reading it.

I really liked that Ann Rule balanced the story of Ted Bundy and his victims with glimpses of her own life, and her own struggles to realize a guy she considered her friend was a total monster. It's a very interesting perspective.

That said, at no point does she ever romanticize or glamourize Ted Bundy which is a trap a lot of more modern adaptations of his story fall into. She's at best neutral about him, but soon admits to herself that deep down she thinks he's guilty.

That said, she also doesn't yadda-yadda through his life. It's (as far as I can tell) a very honest look at his upbringing, which honestly just makes the story more despicable because he really could have had a good, normal life if he had dealt with his rage at Stephanie Brooks in a less destructive way, or like, saw a therapist about it. But also Bundy's personality is not one that could ever do that, and while I think he could have stopped himself I don't think he would've ever understood why he should put in the effort and therefore wouldn't have anyway so...a lot of complicated emotions here.

By the end of the book I was so enraged I stayed up until 1 am just to finish it so I could stop being angry lol

Anyway, TLDR an excellent true crime story that pulls no punches. The author does her absolute best to do service to the victims and balances their stories with Ted's and her own very neatly. Unclear if I will ever read it again, but I'm glad I read it once.

Also if you do read it, I'd suggest picking up the most recent version with all of Ann Rule's afterwords and extra chapters (the original book ends in 1980, 9 years before Bundy was executed, and there are addendums well into the 2000s. Ann clarifies a lot of her original thoughts and even recants or changes her opinion on some things later, so it's good to get a recent version to see the whole picture.) My copy was from 2008, but I think I'm going to pick up a copy of the more recent version with Georgia Hardstark's foreword someday.

I maintain that Carole Ann Boone should've been hit by a bus the instant she left the courthouse after her little wedding trick. What a despicable thing to do during a murder trial, and on the anniversary of the murder of Bundy's last victim too. Regrettably, she lived to be 70.

#thinking about reading #ann rule #the stranger beside me

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remembering-angels · 4 months

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“Ted Bundy haunts me still. [..] The world moves on inexorably without Ted Bundy. But he left behind so many scars, nightmares, and memories that cannot me blotted out.”. - Ann rule

#ted Bundy #the stranger beside me #ann rule #tedbundy

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catjoyy · 5 months

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It is interesting to note that through all the trials, through all the years of black headlines that would label Ted a monster, and worse, he would always have at least one woman entranced with him, and proclaiming his innocence. The woman would change as time passed. Apparently, the emotions he provoked in them would not.

Ann Rule, The Stranger Beside Me

#ann rule #the stranger beside me #ted bundy #quotes #literature #quote

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tragically-torie · 1 year

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Currently reading

#horror #crimes against persons #murder mystery #haunting #amityville #helter skelter #ann rule #bundy #books and reading #reading #long reads

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abbydjonesoffaerie · 2 years

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After reading Small Sacrifices, which mentioned Downs and Woodfield maintained a correspondence, I've had this on my reading list. It's crazy all the things Woodfield managed to do without getting caught, the number of assaults and robberies and murders. Thankfully, law enforcement did finally apprehend him. The majority of the book covers his crimes and his eventual capture, while his court cases only take up the last few chapters. It's scary how easily he misled so many women. This type of thing should put us in our guard.

I also found the observation that our justice system tends to allow a lot of crime for a small cost on the part of the criminal. After the first few convictions the rest of the courts in three states elected not to charge Woodfield. It was too expensive and they feared that one slip up would have him back on the streets. I get that, but that means he never faced prosecution for those crimes. For good or ill, that's how it works.

Overall, I thought Rule handled the sexual nature of his crimes well, never indulging in them, always reporting the facts with no embellishment, but his crimes were all sexual in nature, so keep that in mind. As always Rule does a great job honoring the victims of these crimes. That's what I like about her writing.

#feed the muse #reading #books #book review #true crime #I-5 killer #ann rule #randell Woodfield #diane downs

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darklingichor · 2 years

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The Stranger Beside Me by Ann Rule

There are some non-fiction books that, unintentionally tell more about their author than they do about their subject matter.

The book about Butch Cassidy that I read last year, is a pretty good example in my opinion. The author was clearly more pissed that the movie wasn't real than he was interested in Cassidy.

This book is a prime example.

Anyone who watches or reads true crime has probably heard of this debut book by Ann Rule

I've read other books by her but just haven't gotten around to her tale of Ted Bundy until now.

I knew a little, that she met him when they both volunteered for a Seattle crisis line (something always said with irony dripping from it considering what we know of Bundy now) and that they had been friends.

I think we all know about Ted Bundy and his crimes, so I am not going to go into the gruesome details. The girls, both known and unknown, the few who survived, and the many who didn't don't need to have their ordeals detailed by me. What I will say is that I hate it when people go on about Bundy and his twisted brilliance.

Was he smart? Yeah, in his way. But it was more theoretical intelligence than anything useful. He could read and spout a good sounding sentence, but in the end, his intelligence was all on the surface, because for all time time spent in classes, going from one college to the next, he only really learned the ciffnotes version of anything. To truely *learn* anything frpm phsyc classes, you have to be willing to look both inside yourself, and also see how another might be suffering. All the knowledge in the DSM is just lip service if you don't have empathy for others or the capsity for self reflection. He didn't. There was nothing inside himself he wanted to reflect upon, and he didn't care at all for others. His practice of the law was entirely self centered. Sure, his limited knowledge of it was used to fair effect in defense of himself. But like everything else, it was shallow. To me, it was just a step above someone simply standing in the courtroom yelling random legal terms.

No, he wasn't brilliant cunning killer.

Like Jack the Ripper before him, his

"success " if you want to call it that was less about his brain and more about circumstance.

The Ripper went after those who were below the notice if the law.

Bundy also used the culture to his advantage. He was a blandly handsome white guy, clean cut and looked younger than he was. He went after young white women and girls. The oldest being in their late 20's,the youngest confirmed being 12. He was the very definition of non-threatening to these girls. Looking like someone they would likely see every day. And when you add that he would use a ruse to ask for help, or paint himself as an authority figure, he became even less of a cause for fear. Also consider that more than one girl had been attacked on a college campus. It's easy to think that you are safe on campus. Especially if you live there. Think about it, that place is basically your back yard, you are safe in your back yard. Not only that, but everyone is always taught that there is safety in numbers. A good number of the girls lived in houses with other people. His one talent was that he knew where people would not have their guard up. And even that isn't that brilliant, He knew where he could be lost in a crowd. We all can figure that out of we think for a second.

He preyed on the young women who had every right to feel safe, in places where he very well could have simply been what he was pretending to be and no one would bat an eye.

Think about it, had he been in different areas where he would have stuck out, he wouldn't have been viewed and forgotten so often.

Anyway, like I said this book really says more about Ann Rule.

She is loyal, but didn't have blinders on. I respect that she didn't try to wax philosophical about how cunning and smart Bundy was. She documented other people doing it, but didn't really say much beyond that Bundy was intelligent, was likely a sensitive kid, who went though trauma early in childhood.

Throughout the book, she detailed her friendship with Bundy, she was honest, she liked him. He was charming, he was nice to her, he was *good* at the crisis line.

And when Bundy was arrested she honestly thought that even if he was guilty, she would still write to him, as he was clearly sick and clearly needed help, so obviously she wouldn't abandon him. While writing the book and Bundy was alive, she didn't publish anything he asked her not to.

She had incredible integrity, and seemed to be a genuinely nice person, wanting to see the best in people. She wanted to see the best in Bundy tried, until she couldn't any more, to keep a seed of doubt about his guilt. I am impressed by her ethics and by her want to be fair, even to the most unfair people.

#book #books #book blogging 2022 #ann rule #the Stranger Beside Me #nonficton #true crime

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gungieblog · 2 years

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Ann Rae Rule October 22, 1931 – July 26, 2015

#ann rule #birthday #photography

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boricuacherry-blog · 30 days

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One day they hoped to be able to be in contact with the people they loved, but for the moment they couldn't do that. They could give their address to very few people, and even that was a commercial mailing service, a "suite" that was really a locked mailbox in a mall.

Sheila Bellush was thirty-five. She had worked in attorneys' offices since she was eighteen, but was now a full-time mother taking care of the twins she had with her new husband. Sheila did what she had to do, hoping her ex-husband wouldn't find where she had moved to, under the cover of darkness.

And so November 7 was an ordinary day, but only in the context of Sheila Bellush's life. In truth, there were no ordinary days for Sheila; she had lived with fear so long that it seeped like acid into any fleeting serenity she might attain, corroding her thoughts, sending jets of adrenaline through her veins.

Her husband Jamie had begun the paperwork to adopt her two daughters by her ex-husband Allen. That day, Jamie was on the road, planning to visit several doctors' offices for Pfizer. He promised to be home before dark. They would have the weekend together. Sheila had no doubt they would spend the rest of their lives together. She was half right.

Stevie Bellush, thirteen, was petite and small-boned like her mother, although she had her father's facial features and his dark hair. She and her sister Darryl had always excelled in school, but they had been through a lot in their young life.

Today Stevie was in a good mood. She hurried home from junior high school shortly before 4 that Friday. "I heard that a boy I liked was going to ask me out," she remembered. "And I wanted to tell my mom."

The front door was unlocked, which was strange. Her mother was adamant that the doors remain locked.

Afterward Stevie would remember that she couldn't make sense out of the first thing she saw when she walked into the front room. All of the babies were standing in the hallway crying as if their hearts would break. Her mother never let them cry; she always picked them up and soothed them. For some reason they had no clothes on - nothing but the little life vests they wore when they were in the swimming pool in the Florida room. Their faces were swollen from sobbing. Stevie thought they must have been crying for a long time.

What made the least sense to Stevie were the funny pattern of dark red specks on the babies' skin, some in their hair and on their feet. Some of them had swaths of the same color, as if someone had dipped a brush in red paint and then daubed at their flesh. All of their little bottoms were bare under their life jackets. Her mother usually put their diapers back on after they swam, but she hadn't done that.

Shock and disbelief often block the mind from accepting what the eyes perceive. Even so, Stevie's dread was so great that there was a thunderous pounding in her ears. She went looking for her mother, calling out for her as she moved through room after room. She stared at the scattered clothing trailing through the kitchen from the utility room as if someone had just thrown it there haphazardly. In the kitchen doorway there was another mound of clothing. She looked closer and saw that it was a person, a person crumpled on the floor in a sea of red. Then she realized the person on the floor was her mother, lying motionless in the doorway, just in front of the dishwasher. Her face and arms and blue shirt were all covered with the same red. Stevie just stood there, trying to take in what she was seeing. She walked into the bedroom, and dialed 911 on the phone with numb fingers. But then she hung up. Had she really seen her mother lying in the floor with all that blood? She thought she was somehow imagining it. She walked back into the kitchen and saw her mother still lying there, then picked up the phone again.

As the 911 operator began questioning her, the horror of what she was seeing cut through her shock and she began to sob.

When paramedics arrived on the scene, they instantly could tell she was beyond saving, though it was clear she had put up a tremendous fight. Her pupils were fixed and dilated and she was covered in defensive wounds. Her throat had been cut and her shirt was soaked through with blood. The quadruplets might still be young enough not to remember what happened. They hoped that was true.

"Do you know who might have done this?" they asked Stevie.

"Yes. I know who did it, but he didn't do it himself. He probably hired someone to do it."

"Who?"

"My father did it. My father - Allen Blackthorne."

The crew checked the four toddlers who had dried blood all over them. There was evidence they had huddled next to her for some of the six hours they had waited alone in the house for someone to find them. It appeared little Frankie had clung to his mother's leg while she was still upright and moving across the kitchen to the phone, because he had blood splashed inside his life jacket. With her last breath of life and blood rapidly draining from her body, Sheila had managed to get the kitchen phone off the hook, but then collapsed and fell backward before she could call 911.

Warning: Autopsy***

Lieutenant Ron Albritton inspected where the victim lay. It would take an autopsy to determine which of her wounds had killed her. There was a round bullet hole, rimmed with gunpowder, in the center of her right cheek, but there was also a bloodstained filleting knife, its tip bent, lying next to her. Whoever killed her had wanted to be sure she was dead.

A .45-caliber shell casing was on top of the dryer. The shooter had evidently used a white hand towel, now sooty with gunpowder, to try and muffle the sound of the gunshot, but the towel was black and burned where it had been sucked into the muzzle of the gun, making the weapon useless until someone managed to extricate it. With Sheila fighting back - as she apparently did, even with the bullet wound in her face - her killer would have had to look for another weapon. There was an empty spot in the knife rack on the kitchen wall. She had probably been stabbed with her own knife. The filleting knife had gone completely through her right hand and her throat had been savagely cut. The single gunshot wound that broke her jaw had bled profusely, but from the veins, not her arteries. It had taken awhile for bleeding out to occur. There were numerous nonfatal stabs and scrapes, but two heavy blunt-force blows to her head that had caused her brain to hemorrhage. These were consistent with blows from the butt of a gun.

*** End: of autopsy

As she lay now on the autopsy table, Sheila was still beautiful, her eyes clear and her face serene. Unlike some murder victims, there was no terror etched on her face. She had put up a tremendous fight, but as she died, perhaps she had seen another world - the Heaven she had always believed in despite the emotional pain in her life.

Nothing had been stolen from her home, but someone had kept stabbing and beating her long after she was fatally injured. And that someone had a heart icy enough to walk away and leave four babies alone with their bleeding mother. They were too young to be witnesses, but they had seen what happened. One of her tiny boys was already worrying about "Mommy's bad boo-boo," and another said, "The bad man hurt Mommy." Would they ever sleep again without nightmares?

Neighbors reported seeing a strange man in the neighborhood the day of the murder - a well-built, youngish man who was wearing what appeared to be fatigues with a variegated camouflage pattern, who owned a white Mitsubishi Eclipse. A run on the license-plate showed the registered owner was Maria Del Toro of La Pryor, Texas, a small town west of San Antonio, near Eagle Pass on the Mexican border. Maria was a woman in her sixties who had not reported her car stolen. They soon found out Maria had purchased that car for her grandson, José Luis, who was also called Joey. Maria and her husband had raised him as their son.

They found where José Del Toro, a.k.a. Juan Del Toro, had been - at a girl named Carol Arreola's house. Carol shared her apartment with two other girls, Olga Gonzalez and Keren Martin. Carol said she knew Joey but he didn't live in the apartment. He never had. But he had stopped there over the last several days. She had given him a key to the apartment - she knew him well enough to trust him, even though she and her roommates would be away most of the weekend. His sloppiness was a bone of contention between Carol and her roommates; they were annoyed when he left signs of partying in the rest of their neat apartment. Asked if he did drugs, they said he smoked marijuana and snorted cocaine. When searching Carol's room, they made a jarring discovery - a khaki duffel bag with heavy military boots sticking out.

Carol, who was a criminal justice major in college, said she had known Joey since the previous December, and they had dated, and were still dating, but only as "friends."

They didn't believe her, but didn't press her on that matter. Carol last recalled him asking her to get rid of the clothes and boots he left in her apartment, "and a duffel bag that was in his car. He said I should make all those things 'disappear.'"She said he had told her he'd done "something he shouldn't have done" but he wouldn't tell her what.

Frightened, Carol kept adding to her statement, before revealing, "He told he had done something like a hit man would do" and that the victim's ex-husband had ordered the hit. She said she had withheld this information out of fear for her own safety.

He had also confessed to her that he now "knew what it was like to look into a woman's eyes that you're about to harm."

The former South Texas high school football star, dressed in a long-sleeved electric blue Tommy Hilfiger shirt and khakis, sang about the mercy that he is under the impression that God has given him, though some inside sources state he's actually going to Hell.

#every breath you take #ann rule #book quotes #true story #true crime #allen blackthorne #sheila bellush #joey del toro #stevie bellush

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