A ghoul for a client: Ted Bundy defends himself

Ted Bundy committed his crimes primarily in the 1970s, but even today, most people have heard of him and have strong feelings about his case. The horrific nature of his actions have given him notoriety even decades after his death, and this infamy has been sustained by the many books, documentaries, true crime websites, and news reports about him. Like it or not, the Ted Bundy case is an enduring cultural touchstone.

It’s easy to find detailed accounts of Bundy’s crimes online and in print, but it’s difficult to find accurate summaries of the resulting legal proceedings. Here, I will discuss a subject of little interest to the general public but one of great curiosity to lawyers and law students: If a law student is accused of a capital crime, what happens when he attempts to defend himself?

To understand Bundy’s legal case, we need not understand Bundy. Indeed, no matter how much we examine his acts, they defy understanding. As unpleasant as it is, if we are to understand the legal proceedings, we must examine the underlying circumstances that brought him before the court.

Let us go and make our visit.

The client

Theodore Robert Cowell was born in Vermont on November 24, 1946, to an unwed mother, Louise Cowell, who then moved with her infant son into the home of her parents in Philadelphia. For the first few years of his life, Ted was told that his grandparents were his parents and that his mother was his older sister.

When Ted was a toddler, Louise moved with Ted to Tacoma, Washington, to live with cousins and in 1951, married Johnny Bundy, who adopted Ted, giving him his familiar last name. Ted slowly began to realize that Louise was his mother and that his own biological father was long gone.

Growing concerns

While many of his close friends, family members, and co-workers were shocked when Ted was arrested, it’s also true that he displayed many of the hallmarks of a budding sex criminal as he grew up.

For example, he was fixated on pornography and lurid “detective” magazines and often roamed his neighborhood as a preteen and teen to peep into his neighbor’s windows to watch the women undress. Meanwhile, he showed the telltale lack of empathy and remorse common to the antisocial personality disorder type, shoplifting, stealing ski equipment and forging ski lift tickets, even being arrested for auto theft and burglary as a juvenile. Further, he had trouble forming close relationships with his family and school friends due to his lack of empathy and befuddlement at social interactions.

While some of these problems appear in teenagers who later grow up to be law-abiding citizens, they are troubling in hindsight in this case, as it is clear that he was growing into the serial killer that he would become.

The crimes

While it’s impossible to say, authorities believe that Bundy began his string of serial murders in or around 1969. The first murders that can be definitively attributed to him occurred in early 1974 in Washington and Oregon. Before Bundy was captured for good in Florida in 1978, he had murdered more than 30 young women in Washington, Oregon, Idaho, California, Utah, Colorado, and Florida.

The actual number of victims is higher, but it’s impossible to say by how much. Detectives in jurisdictions where Bundy lived or visited speculate that he may have been responsible for unsolved rapes and rape/murders in those towns, as well.

What is certain, however, is that he had an overwhelming compulsion to stalk, beat, rape, torture, kill, and then sexually assault the corpses of young, attractive women. He devastated the families, friends, and communities of these young women and girls, some as young as 12, who were left with the knowledge that their loved ones spent their last hours (and in some cases, days) in pain and terror. In most cases, the families were unable to recover and bury the remains.

Bundy never expressed, and probably never felt, remorse. On the contrary, he denied his crimes until his execution was drawing near, when he began to feed bits of information to investigators in exchange for a delay in his execution, a macabre “bones for time” scheme.

Hard to hold

Because the crimes occurred before the widespread use of computer technology in law enforcement, Bundy had killed at least 20 women before investigators in the various jurisdictions realized that they were searching for the same man. Further, the concept of a serial killer was a relatively novel one. Instead, many investigators suspected a cult, due in part to the recent Charles Manson murders.

Once investigators understood that this was the work of a single man, they still faced difficulties. The unknown killer left few eyewitnesses and little physical evidence, and DNA science was not yet a part of crime scene investigations. The police echoed the same sentiment: It was as if the earth had opened up and swallowed the victims, leaving no trace.

To further complicate matters, when we think of a serial killer, we expect him to look and act like a monster at all times. Bundy’s outward appearance was normal, and he attended college, served as an assistant to high-ranking GOP officials in Washington state, and even volunteered at a suicide hotline.

In the fall of 1973, Bundy began his first semester of law school at the University of Puget Sound. He had been accepted both to UPS and to the University of Utah’s law school despite lackluster undergrad grades and a mediocre LSAT score. He was admitted primarily on the strength of his letters of recommendation from Washington Governor Daniel Evans, Washington GOP chair Ross Davis, and several of his undergrad professors.

Clearly, it was a different time. Today’s law students know that stellar undergrad performance, high LSAT scores, and strong recommendations are expected and are merely part of a successful admissions package.

Clean-cut student

A key reason that Bundy’s story is still on our minds today is the dichotomy: It’s hard to believe that a successful law student by day can be a diabolical psychosexual killer by night.

This disconnect has been exaggerated by journalists and Bundy biographers, however. While it’s true that Bundy appeared to be a model citizen who fooled prominent politicians and law school admissions committees for a time, he was not the “brilliant law student” that is described to us in almost every report.

Instead, Bundy was a heavy drinker who had difficulty concentrating due in part to the dark compulsion that was overtaking him during this time. In later years, he recalled his law school classes as a blur. He couldn’t comprehend even the simplest intellectual concepts of his first-semester classes, concepts that his fellow students seemed to grasp with ease.

This imposter syndrome-style fear sounds familiar to any law student, but to Bundy, it was a reality. He wasn’t smart enough and wasn’t a hard enough worker to compete, and by the spring of his first year, he had stopped attending classes entirely.

Despite his failure at UPS law, he was able to convince the University of Utah to allow him to transfer there (again, it was a different time!), and he began attending classes in Salt Lake City in the autumn of 1974, with the same academic results—and the same rash of missing young women in the area.

While Bundy had finally attracted the attention of law enforcement in several jurisdictions, it was here in Utah that he was arrested for the first time as an adult. Posing as a plain-clothes police officer, he lured a naïve Carol DaRonch to his car at the Fashion Place Mall in Murray, Utah. As he drove away with her, he attempted to knock her unconscious with a crowbar while he struggled to handcuff her but fumbled and managed only to get both cuffs around the same wrist. This brave young woman fought for her life and managed to jump out of the car, where Bundy chased her. She fought him off and ran into the path of an oncoming car and jumped in. The startled older couple in the car drove her to the police station, where she gave a detailed report. Bundy had been arrested at an unrelated traffic stop, and DaRonch identified him, which led to his being charged with aggravated kidnapping. It was DaRonch’s testimony at trial that led to his first conviction.

While Bundy lost this case, it was a close one. Eyewitness identifications are easy to impeach, and there was little additional evidence. Bundy was represented by two experienced lawyers, John O’Connell and Bruce Lubeck, who wisely requested a bench trial rather than a jury trial due to the sympathetic nature of the victim. Despite their competent representation and the strength of their case, the judge found Bundy guilty and sentenced him to one to 15 years in prison. The judge himself admitted that this was an agonizingly close decision, and local prosecutors to this day joke that this was the only case they knew of where a guilty man was framed.

Once Bundy began serving time in the Utah State Prison, Colorado charged him with the murder of Caryn Campbell, a nurse who was abducted from the Wildwood Inn in Snowmass and found dead in a nearby snowbank, and he was extradited to stand trial there. As bleak as this sounds, Bundy had a fair chance of prevailing in the Campbell murder trial. Colorado’s case was not much stronger than the Utah DaRonch case. If Bundy prevailed in Colorado, he could win on appeal in the shaky DaRonch case in Utah, and then, possibly, be free.

Bundy was out of money, however, and the failed law student declined a public defender and petitioned to represent himself in a capital murder case. The judge agreed, and Bundy was allowed time in the courthouse’s law library without shackles and handcuffs.

He escaped, of course, was captured, and escaped again from jail while he awaited trial and after the trial began. He made his way to Florida by plane and stolen car and bus, where he would kill again and again, and finally be arrested, convicted, and ultimately executed.

Had Bundy not insisted on managing his own defense, he would likely still be alive today, a 74-year-old man, languishing in the Raiford Florida State Prison on Route 16 in swampy central Florida. He made another choice, however, and that choice made all the difference.

Competent representation

The Sixth Amendment guarantees the defendant in a criminal action the right to a lawyer, even if he or she cannot pay. Further, the Sixth Amendment has been interpreted to allow criminal defendants to represent themselves if they so desire and under certain circumstances. Faretta v. California, 422 U.S. 806 (1975)

Despite Bundy’s occasional high-profile jobs and lifelong habit of stealing cash, electronics, and luxury goods, he had no assets and could have required Colorado to appoint a public defender in the Caryn Campbell trial. (Presumably, Bundy’s parents paid for his Utah DaRonch lawyers.) Bundy decided to represent himself. He was perhaps displaying his need to control as well as his belief in his superior intelligence, a trait that would vex his future court-appointed lawyers in Florida.

In all of his trials, Bundy simply would not listen to counsel, which is of course familiar to any lawyer. This tendency is particularly acute in those who are afflicted with Cluster B personality disorders, such as Narcissistic Personality Disorder and Antisocial Personality Disorder. These clients are so convinced of their superiority and infallibility that believe that the jury will be on their side if they are given the chance to tell their story. They are truly stunned to find otherwise, and are often furious and mystified when the jury finds them guilty, when a motion is denied, and even when the victim’s family is angry at them.

This client’s lawyer will be quickly driven to the point of exasperation, as many of Bundy’s were, because they will insist that the case be managed in his ways against all reason, and the lawyers find themselves presenting indefensible motions and furthering ridiculous arguments. Meanwhile, the client is verbally abusing them and threatening bar complaints, so it’s easy to see why these relationships are untenable and result in a request for removal, usually by the lawyers.

It’s tempting, then, for a judge to grant the defendant’s request to represent himself, even though a non-lawyer lacks the experience and knowledge to competently represent himself. Still, it’s his choice, right?

Not so fast.

It’s Your Funeral

We don’t just want a trial; we want a fair, effective trial. Preferably, the trial will be conducted with no reversible errors.

In a felony trial, particularly one in which a capital crime is charged, there are so many moving parts and therefore so many opportunities to violate the defendant’s constitutional rights. Did the jury see the defendant in shackles? Was an eyewitness contaminated by media coverage? Did the judge give perfect jury instructions? And of course: Did the defendant receive his constitutionally protected right to competent representation?

For this reason, the judge may deny the defendant his right to represent himself if the defendant cannot undertake this knowingly and intelligently. Sometimes, a judge will appoint a “standby counsel” to advise the defendant who insists on representing himself. (This appointment is every bit as nightmarish as it sounds. Consider this: You are required to help the defendant, but you are not running the case. It’s the worst of both worlds. It forces the lawyer to be a self-aware, intelligent Igor, the handmaiden to a madman. Any of Bundy’s lawyers can attest to this.)

It’s a tough decision for the judge, who must navigate a narrow channel among several cases.

First, we must establish that the defendant is competent to stand trial—that he has a “rational and factual” understanding of the proceedings and that he is able to assist in his own defense. Dusky v. United States, 362 U.S. 402 (1960) and Drope v. Missouri, 420 U.S. 162 (1975).

Second, just because a defendant is competent to stand trial does not mean he is competent to defend himself, because it is much more complicated to manage an entire defense than to be able to understand proceedings. Indiana v. Edwards, 554 U.S. 164 (2008). (This case came after Bundy’s trials, of course, but it is important clarification now.)

Third, while a defendant cannot be forced to accept a lawyer if he does not want one, he must show the judge that he understands the “dangers and disadvantages” of self-representation. Faretta v. California, 422 U.S. 806 (1975)

Practically, this means that the judge will ask the defendant a series of pointed questions such as: What are you charged with? What does that mean? If you lose, what will happen to you? Those are the easy questions. It’s almost certain that the defendant will not know when and why to make certain motions, how to introduce and authenticate evidence, or how to direct- and cross-examine witnesses, to name a few problems. The judge is not required to advise the defendant but can do so as long as the judge does not show bias and isn’t seen as helping the defense too much. It’s a fine line.

Self-representation

We’ll never know how Bundy would have fared while he represented himself in the Campbell case, but he was successful in several pretrial motions prior to his escape. In particular, he prevailed on motions to keep damaging evidence out and was well-spoken and presented himself professionally to the court when he appeared.

Before his trial in Colorado could get fully underway, however, Bundy escaped to Florida, where he stole several identities, committed a rash of thefts, and killed again. In Tallahassee, he bludgeoned, sexually assaulted, strangled, and otherwise brutalized several sleeping sisters at the Chi Omega sorority houses, killing two. In Lake City, he kidnapped 12-year-old Kimberly Leach from her school, raped and sodomized her and slashed her throat (likely WHILE he was raping her) and dumped her destroyed remains in an abandoned hog farrowing shed.

A crazed, disintegrating, fleeing Bundy was arrested in the panhandle and was charged with multiple counts of murder and attempted murder. The heinous nature of his crimes—with multiple aggravating factors—put the death penalty squarely on the table. Due to the intense pretrial publicity, the venue for the Chi Omega trial was changed to Miami, where the worldwide media and Bundy groupies (seriously) lent the proceedings a circus-like atmosphere similar to that of the Charles Manson trial. Afterward, the Leach trial would be held in Orlando.

In Miami, Bundy found himself before veteran judge Edward D. Cowart, who masterfully navigated this difficult and complex trial to the bitter end. Bundy proved a nearly unmanageable defendant, but Judge Cowart was up for it, employing his rare combination of folksy everyman, stern disciplinarian, and seasoned jurist.

Cowart was well aware that the defense had to be managed properly, and so took the unusual step of appointing five defense lawyers. Bundy exhausted them all. Even with the assistance of these five meticulous defenders, Bundy insisted on taking first chair in his defense. His lawyers agree that he sabotaged his own trial out of childish spite and downright delusional thinking, and that he seemed to care only that he was in control, even though he was fighting quite literally for his life.

Bundy was in the driver’s seat, and here we can see an excellent example of the dire consequences when a defendant ignores his counsel’s advice. The State had offered a common plea deal: If Bundy pleaded guilty, he would avoid the death penalty. Prosecutors knew that their evidence wasn’t strong. Remember that DNA evidence wasn’t available yet, and so the State’s case rested primarily on some hair and fiber evidence as well as the unreliable eyewitness testimony of a Chi Omega sister who had briefly glimpsed Bundy’s profile in a dark foyer.

Still, this imperfect evidence was compelling, and it was certain that if Bundy were convicted, he would go to the electric chair. Still, Bundy could not bring himself to plead guilty. He could not relinquish control and could not shatter his fragile self-image. While his lawyers begged him to reconsider, he declined the deal, was found guilty, and was sentenced to death. He got the same result in Orlando, again making poor tactical decisions and again insisting on managing his own defense.

The aftermath

After his July 24, 1979, conviction in the Leach case, Bundy remained on Death Row at Raiford until he exhausted his appeals. He was executed in Florida’s electric chair on the morning of January 24, 1989. At his request, his body was cremated and the ashes were scattered somewhere in Washington’s Cascade Mountains—despite the vigorous objections of some of his victims’ families, who did not want him to share a final resting place with their loved ones who he had dumped there.

At his Orlando trial, Bundy took advantage of an obscure Florida law that allowed a marriage to be solemnized when a man and a woman declared their intent to be married while in a courtroom before a judge. Bundy thereby married his longtime penpal and former coworker Carole Ann Boone. Boone later bribed prison guards and consummated the marriage, giving birth to Bundy’s daughter in 1982.

Bundy had married, had a child, reached middle age, prepared for his death, and chose his final resting place, an opportunity that he denied to at least 35 innocent young women, women who fought as hard as they could to defend themselves.